


The Other Side

by DaineYui



Series: Long Lost Child Series [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 37
Words: 98,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaineYui/pseuds/DaineYui
Summary: Synopsis:Mike had always known deep in his gut that the closing of the Gate and the shutting down of Hawkin’s Lab didn’t mean that the Party was free and clear of all that the Lab had been working on. Sure, the monsters, such as the Mind Flayer and the demogorgons, may have been locked on one side of the Gate while the rest of the Hawkin’s population remained safely on the other side, but there were more than one type of monsters. And the ones that trouble him now are the human adult kind.Richie had been hoping that the troubles were actually over. It had been tough enough surviving one bastard of a clown, his mother’s death, and adjusting to one very new, very traditional “healthy” family. He really didn’t need more stress, thank you very fucking much. But no one’s asked him for his opinion and all he knows is that as long as Mikey and him are together, at least there’s a fighting chance. Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Long Lost Child and the first Part does need to be read before this... or else it'll be really confusing!! Thanks for everyone who's been supporting my work!!! Love you all!!! <3

Disclaimer 1: I do not own the Stranger Things or IT characters. The Stranger Things characters were created by the Duffer Brothers and IT characters by Stephen King. I bow to all of them and to the actors that brought these characters to life. Please know that this story is mainly based on Stranger Things Season 1 and 2 as well as the IT 2017 and IT Chapter 2 movie adaptations with some information from Wikipedia and Youtube about the novel.

Disclaimer 2: Just a heads up that there’s potentially triggering scenes in the story including but not limited to murder, kidnapping, suicidal ideation, child neglect and abuse, internalized and non-internalized homophobia, and violence. If that’s not something you want to have to deal with, I would suggest looking for another story to read that combines this cast! There are tons out there that are wonderful!!

Part II – _The Other Side_

The Sequel to _Long Lost Child_

Chapter 1

Day 1 & 2

Richie is fighting a losing battle. He’s trying to stay asleep while his senses are all working against him and trying very hard to wake him up. He feels it in the way that the peace is leaving him, the way his thoughts start to pinpoint things that are off (_it’s cold and his head hurts and wherever he’s laying is hard. Harder than it should be._), and the way a growing uneasiness is filling him instead. He hasn’t tried to open his eyes yet though because he actually is still really tired. Groggy tired. Like the kind of tired that he’d experienced when he first started taking the sleeping aid and had taken it too late and it hadn’t quite worn off by the time the alarm had gone off the next morning. He’d been a complete zombie then. Senses aware but just not able to physically act until Aunt Karen had shaken him awake. Even then, they’d (_she’d_) ended up deciding that he just needed to sleep it off and had called him out of school that day. They’d figured out when he needed to take it so he wasn’t so impacted the following morning.

But he hadn’t taken the prescribed sleep aid in almost two weeks…

There simply hadn’t been as much of a need for it now that school was out and summer vacation was here. His nightmares were starting to come less frequently and when they did come, he could at least sleep in and not have to worry about school.

The little niggling thought stays with him and he starts to fight not against waking up but against staying asleep. He needs to open his eyes. He needs to understand.

He feels his eyelids fluttering and there’s light that makes him close his eyes tightly once more. Too bright. He gives it another try and is able to see more than just light. It doesn’t make sense though what he sees. It’s nothing familiar. Sterile is actually the first word that comes to mind and he’s briefly brought back to the time he was hospitalized. It makes him open his eyes a third time more rapidly and they stay open now. He scans the room, taking more in.

He’s on a cot, mattress thin and hard, cotton sheet under him. The walls are white and bare, no windows, just one door and it’s shut. Mikey is here with him though on a similar cot and he’s in a hospital garb, those thin cotton like tunics that barely come up to his knees. There’s pants of the same make and color. Mikey’s still asleep from the looks of it, face and mouth slack from lack of tension. There’s something… _off_ about Mikey though. And his brain is still chugging away like its wading in molasses because when it finally clicks, it seems so painfully obvious that it scares him that it didn’t come to him until he had to actually _think_ about it.

Mikey’s hair has been shaved off. It’s all gone.

He’s not quite panicking yet because none of it makes any sense. And its reassuring that whatever is happening, at least he’s not alone. Mikey is here with him.

It has to be a dream though. It has to be. It’s the only way any of this makes any sense. A fucked up dream that he only thinks he’s waking up from when he’s not.

It’s with a trembling hand that he reaches for his own head and finds his own waves of messy brown hair to be gone. Instead, there’s just the odd softness of hair shaved close to a buzz cut. _That is not a look we can pull off._ The thought is random but it causes a bark of a laugh to leave him. If only for a moment.

His hand falls back to his side. _This feels strangely real for a dream. And what if it isn’t a dream? What if… if, if, if… fucking ifs._ He has a whole list of ifs. If only he could remember why and how they got here and when… that would be more helpful. And where is here anyway? There’s a part of him that thinks if the medicine continues to wear off then maybe the memories will come back and explain it all away but there’s nothing coming to him. Absolutely nothing.

He tries to think back and initially the only thing he remembers is the Quarry. Playing in the water, enjoying the summer sun, of being surrounded by the Party, of playing chicken and of laughing. Biking Ellie Belle to the cabin and biking home… but that’s all. That’s all he remembers.

Richie slowly pushes himself up one elbow, hating how dry his mouth is and how it makes his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He hates how his muscles feel all weak and how it makes him feel uncoordinated. He’s shaky, his center of gravity warning him that if he doesn’t reposition his weight, his elbow will give up and he’ll topple over. He adjusts carefully and tries to swallow. He really wants water but there’s nothing besides them and the two cots in the room. No medical machines. Nothing. Not a hospital then. Wrong guess…

No to a dream. It’s too real. No to a hospital. Too sterile. A lab?

“Mikey…” He manages to utter. “Mikey, wake up man…” His twin makes a slight face, looks like he’s about to turn over and away with the way his muscles twitch but he doesn’t. He ends up staying where he is and Richie pulls himself into a sitting position. He’s shaky still but he manages. “Mikey! I mean it! Wake. Up.”

A little grumble of a groan answers him.

“Not good enough Mikey!” Still firmly holding on to the cot’s mattress, he reaches over and slaps at the air near his twin. It’s only the very tips of his fingers that manage to actually hit flesh. It shows as bright thin trails of red blooming on pale skin. He does it again and finally, fucking finally, Mikey starts to truly stir. He can tell it’s a fight but it’s happening. Brown eyes open and close several times in rapid succession before finally staying open. There’s an unnatural stillness that takes over his twin’s body that should be worrisome (_is worrisome_) but Richie knows what it means. He knows that Mikey’s brain is probably taking everything in just like he did moments before and is trying to make sense of it all. He hopes Mikey remembers more than he does because if not they’re screwed.

…more than they clearly already are.

“Mikey…”

His twin takes a huge inhale in and it sounds like it hurts. It’s a harsh noise in the oppressive silence of the room. Mikey slowly turns and gets up, body also trembling from whatever drug they’d been given.

“Richie…” The way his name is said does not give him hope. Instead it fills him with more panic and despair than he’d expected.

…

They’re left alone long enough for the two of them to get enough strength back in their limbs that they’ve mapped the small square box of a room from inch to inch. There’s really nothing here besides the cots and the door, firmly locked. They’ve tried opening it several ways now – simply turning the knob in blind hope that it wasn’t locked all the way to running into it in a mad panicky move that only increased the overall sense of claustrophobia.

After more than one severe panic attack between them both that had left Mike’s own rib cage aching and the acrid sickening smell of vomit thick in the air, they’d silently agreed to leave the door alone.

It simply wasn’t productive.

“Talk to me Mikey cause I can’t just stay here in silence… say something… anything.” Richie’s voice is raw and thick and Mike winces at the panic that he can still here under all the exhaustion. He sags onto one of the cots and looks around again, trying to clear his head _enough_ to be able to do what Richie is asking him to do. It takes a couple false starts but then he’s off.

“I remember Dr. Winterwell… at home. We were on our bikes… and he had something to give… us? I think… something heavy that he needed help with…”

“I don’t remember that Mikey…why the fuck don’t I remember any of that? All I remember is the Quarry.”

“I don’t know.” Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know why you can’t remember. It’s pretty fuzzy for me but…I keep seeing his face and thinking it’s wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be there.”

There’s a long drawn out pause before Richie breaks the silence again.

“It hasn’t been a fucking year yet. You said the big stuff happened every year – more or less. It hasn’t been that long yet. This is too soon…”

…

It’s hard to keep track of the passing time. There’s no changing of the light and no sound outside the enclosed room that they can hear at least. Minutes can feel like hours or days even and Mike knows this so he doesn’t even try and guess at how long they’ve been awake. He just knows that his heart still hurts because of how hard it’s beating and he’s not sure when the sheer emotional overload is going to conk both of them into a deep sleep out of pure physical exhaustion.

Richie keeps standing up, pacing, and then sitting back down. Sometimes it’s a quiet walk around the room. Other times, his twin freaks out and he’s hitting and kicking and yelling and cursing himself hoarse. Those latter times are starting to leave their marks. Red on white. The vividness of the red slowly browning as the blood starts to dry. He’d yelled at Richie the first time to knock it off and he’d made a show of inspecting the broken skin, the turned up nail – minor hurts – and so now when Richie goes through the cycle of lashing out against the door, Mike simply watches.

There’s no sign of life outside the room that responds to these outbursts though and Richie deflates like a popped balloon just like every previous time. That’s when he comes back to settle in a limp curl besides Mike, his head shoving itself against his twin’s hip.

It goes on like this. Just on and on and on and on and…

When the door opens, the sound is too loud. Too intrusive. Both of them are up and on their feet and wildly looking at the door.

He knows he should have been expecting it. He’d already assumed Hawkins Lab was involved but still his brain stalls as he sees the face that’s being revealed.

…

When the door opens, it briefly causes a flare up of contradicting emotions in Richie. Fear (_in that, soil your pants sort of fear_) and relief. Relief that finally something will start to explain why the hell they’re here and that some sort of action can take place.

Because if he has to stay one second more in this white box with only his blood to finger paint the walls with (_and or feces but that’s fucking gross dude, and oh shit, where’s the bathroom anyway in this joint?)_, he’s going to fucking lose it.

He startles though when Mikey just starts to yell at the man who’s walking in. At first glance, the man just seems polished. Tall, white hair, impeccably groomed and definitely no one that Richie recognizes off the bat. His voice is soft yet commanding. Cultured yet… the longer Richie stares and listens to the back and forth, the more he starts to wish that the door hadn’t been opened at all.

He’ll take back the white box, thanks.

“You can’t be here. I saw you get attacked by the demogorgon. You were dead!”

“I was attacked, yes but I was never dead.” The man’s voice is quiet.

“How is that even possible? I saw you! We _all _saw you!” Mikey demands and Richie wishes his twin would shut up because there’s something about the way the man is looking at them, the way he’s talking and moving that gives him the creeps. He doesn’t want anything to prolong the interaction and he definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t want anything to set this man off. There’s just something about the calculated stillness – the calmness that just warns him that this man is more than a little dangerous.

“The creature that your friends called a demogorgon, yes? Much like a shark, was in too much of a frenzy due to the smell of blood and so many moving prey to really pay attention as to whether it _killed_ everything before moving onto the next…” It’s stated like an offhand shrug. Like the detail is minute and boring and Richie can’t help but want to take another step back and away. But there’s nowhere to go.

“What do you want with us?!” Mikey’s voice breaks at the question. “We don’t know where _she_ is…”

“Oh Michael,” The man smiles and motions for them to take a seat on one cot while he smoothly sits himself down on another. “Please sit.” And Richie does, grabbing his twin and getting him to sit the fuck down right next to him. “I have known where Eleven is for quite some time now. She is right where she should be, growing… learning… getting stronger. I’m quite sure that she’ll find her way back to me,” A pause as he looks the twins over. “…to us, soon enough.”

“…no…” Mikey says horrified. “No. You can’t use us as bait. That won’t work. She’s never coming back to you. Never!” The man simply smiles calmly, unfazed by Mikey’s vehement protest and clearly not seeing a need to argue. Instead, his eyes continue to carefully take them in. It’s like being measured but Richie’s not sure which parts of him exactly are being assessed and he feels the goosebumps erupt all over under the scrutiny.

“Dear, dear boys. We have so much to talk about…”

Yeah, really wishing the door had never opened.

Tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short update but next one will be on Sunday to make up for it!!! Thank you everyone for all of the support!!! You're wonderful!!! <3

Chapter 2

Day 2

“On March 10th, 1970, an experiment took place in the Soviet Union that attracted much attention. Ninel Sergeyevna Kulagina, born on July 30th 1926 and 44 years old at the time, was able to stop the beating of a frog’s heart that had been floating in solution simply with the power of her mind. The heart was measured to beat faster than slower, before finally coming to a complete stop.

Prior to this feat, she had been found to move objects without touching them when she was angered or upset. Her husband was the one who initially brought it to the attention of the authorities, having video taped his wife in action multiple times. Several other experiments and videos of her feats were documented by at least 40 renowned scientists in controlled laboratory settings. Their findings ranged detailing what she could or could not do and reporting that she could even separate broken eggs submerged in water – moving the whites and yolks away from one another – simply by concentrating and using her own energy. She never touched the items and it was recorded that her heartbeat, brain waves, and electromagnetic fields were accelerated and significantly changed.

Of course, several scientists and non-scientists fought to disprove these findings. They spent years loudly vocalizing that sleight of hand techniques such as using disguised threads, metals, mirrors or even magnets could explain exactly what she was doing and how she was manipulating the various objects placed in front of her.

These men and organizations had their own agendas. Whether it be political – hiding the growing interest and funding on psychokinetic work for military purpose that their own countries and governments were suddenly backing - or simply to manage the most banal of human emotions – fear of the unknown. In the end, they all remained the same. They were all fools. None of their cries could erase what was now internationally public knowledge. Extrasensory perceptions or psychokinetic abilities were no longer a thing of myths and fairy tales. They were real and they could be measured, quantified via rigorous scientific measurements.

Once the American government got wind of this woman and of the many studies that the Soviet Union was putting her through and most likely others of similar ilk, well… you can rest assured that a team in the US was put in place to be able to replicate and even further their findings. Imagine what an army made of individuals able to harness the full power of our brain’s potential versus the mere ten percent that normal individuals use could accomplish. It could bring an end to the Cold War. An end to all wars. America safe to remain the primary world power forever.

The team started by analyzing all the research that had been made public and those less public. From there, we were able to create a list of identifying factors for those who were naturally able to tap into these abilities. Once identified, they were further categorized. Telekinetics who could move objects solely with their minds, usually when emotionally triggered. Pyrokinetics who could create fire and manipulate fire, a distant cousin of the Telekinetics. And then there were Telepaths – able to hear others’ thoughts, glean information from others even from a distance, as well as manipulate other’s perceptions of reality. Empaths – able to _feel_ and manipulate what others feel. And lastly, the Sensitives. Those who have the potential for any of the ESPs but for a reason or another, the potential remains untapped. They tended to be the offspring of the other categories, were sensitive to the others, and to a certain extent helpful even in verifying that the others were indeed the _real deal_ as some would say but beyond that… useless.

And there are so few of real Telekinetics, Pyrokinetics, Telepaths, and Empaths. Most who made claims that they could use any of these powers were largely charlatans out to make some quick cash. They were easy to disprove and dismiss.

But the real ones… they were harder to find. Much, much harder. It seemed like specific conditions needed to be met for whatever part of the brain controlling these skills to come to life. Life or death situations typically near or during the start of puberty led to the strongest of cases. And well, following the end of World War II, The Cold War, and Vietnam War… even if these individuals were few in numbers, they did at least exist in what most likely was a higher percentage than known before.

We didn’t merely want to study them and understand how it is that they were able to do what they could do. We wanted to be able to recreate it.

MK Ultra did just that. Eleven was our first success. The others who came before her pale in what she can do. She isn’t just a Telepath. She’s a Telekinetic and an Empath as well, able to connect and communicate with beings in worlds beyond our own. She was born from a mundane who’s body had simply been put through just the right circumstances at just the right times during her pregnancy. Your mother was as well.”

Richie knows that the words have ended being pushed out into the white cube of a room. He knows because his eardrums have stopped vibrating at the sudden lack of noise. It still doesn’t feel quiet though. The blood rushing in and out with each beat of his heart keeps it from being completely quiet.

He knows that he’s just staring. But he’s lacking in words right now. This man is _absolutely_ bat shit _crazy_.

“But we’re not like El…Eleven.” Mikey’s voice cracks at ‘correcting’ himself and using El’s original name. “We’re not even…” There’s a hitch in his words as it’s clear that he’s trying to use the right terms. The ones that have suddenly appeared and been made known to them. Richie doesn’t even know why his twin is bothering. But again, he’s also not quite sure why he’s sitting here – frozen and speechless – in a way he’s never been before. Not even with _It._ Not even with his mother’s lifeless body. Not really… even then, he’d ended up acting but right now. Right here. There’s nothing. He’s simply… staring. “…_Sensitives_.”

“Yes, you are.” The tone is so even, calm, and collected that it could easily be perceived as soothing. The voice isn’t though. Richie knows that the man and his collected nature are not soothing in the slightest in the way his heart picks up speed once again and it _hurts_. He rubs at his chest as if it’ll help the muscle that’s currently being overworked and quite abused.

“…” He can hear his twin’s mouth open. Just like he can feel the muscles in the lithe body next to him tensing as if Mikey’s gearing up to dispute the great white shark of a man that is simply swimming around them, casually waiting for them to drown. No needless energy needing to be dispensed. The man’s half chiding smile that thins his lips revealing white teeth does nothing to change Richie’s fear response to him. And it _really_ does shit in getting rid of the image of the powerful predator closing in around them.

“Michael, do you really think we’d pick you both up simply on a _hunch?_” There’s only the slightest of pauses before the man continues. “We’ve been watching the two of you for quite some time and it was becoming quite apparent that you were both at the very least, Sensitives. And little nudges from our operatives seemed to indicate that you could be more. And now here we are.”

“…operatives?” The kind wrinkled face of his therapist flashes in his mind and Richie feels the nausea cramp his stomach and bile burn in his throat.

A small smile is the only answer that they receive in this moment.

A/N - All information used to write this chapter came from handy dandy Wikipedia post on this topic. J You can find the information here: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nina_Kulagina>

Tbc... 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Party gather and start plotting to find Mike and Richie

Chapter 3

Day 3

It’s easy enough to get permission to enter the twin’s shared room. It’s the act of asking that had been hard. It was seeing the emotional impact on Mrs. Wheeler that had hurt. But it had to be done and Lucas is going to do anything and everything to get his friends back regardless of how hard it is. So he’d done the asking because he knew he was ready for whatever it took. He wasn’t sure how ready the rest of the shaken Party was. Oh they were right there with him but he knew there’d been relief at him taking charge now that Mike is gone.

Lucas opens the door and takes it all in before stepping inside. Nothing here has overtly changed. It’s still Mike and Richie’s room like it’s always been. Still half messy, half clean and …He hears a muffled sniffle and the sound of Dustin by his other side fixing his hat but nothing else. The air around him seems heavy with sadness but also determination. He looks at Dustin and then Max before the three wordlessly divide the room into different sections that they can search.

Will had opted out of coming, instead staying with El at the cabin and trying to get her energy and health back so that she could help them search for Mike and Richie again in the way she only could. He also has a feeling that Will is staying with her to ensure that she doesn’t do anything rash like leave on her own to go searching blindly for the two of them. She’d tried that first night and Hopper… holy hell had he been scary.

Dustin is going through the desk carefully and minutely while Max is shifting through the book shelf, taking off one item at a time before putting it back in it’s rightful place. There might be nothing here to find but they still have to try.

Lucas shakes himself into action and finds himself getting on his hands and knees to search underneath the beds. There are lots of dust bunnies that make him sneeze but not much else until…

…until he realizes that there’s a shoebox stuffed way back and in a corner under Mike’s bed. He has to literally lie down on the floor and scoot under the bed to grab it. It’s not overly heavy and he’s able to pull it to himself easily enough. Lucas takes a steadying breath, trying to ready himself for disappointment, before opening it once he’s out from under there.

He calls out to the other two when opening it reveals newspaper clippings and handwritten notes about a Dr. Evans and a Dr. Winterwell.

“Guys… I may have found something…”

“What is it?” Max asks, getting to his side first. Dustin isn’t far behind.

“I’m not … entirely… sure.” The hesitance in his words has more to do with the fact that he’s reading quickly over the headlines than actual doubt of what the contents of the box are all about. “I think Mike was researching the studies on MK Ultra. Did you know he was doing this…?” He can’t help but ask Dustin even though he already knows the answer.

“No.” Dustin shakes his head and reaches for the box to look at some of the other documents. “He must have been doing this for awhile…look at how much stuff there is in here.”

“And not just about the study but...who are these people?” Max asks quietly, eyes scanning through the handwritten notes, little frown on her face as she tries to decipher the some times coded messages. “It looks like he tried to do a background check on them. He said he didn’t think that they were involved with Hawkins Lab or the study. Though he sounds awfully suspicious about Ms. Sandy.”

“Does he?” Lucas mutters. “Not entirely surprising…” He shakes his head. “Richie and Mike did get pulled out of classes a couple times that one week back in like what…late April, early May or something? Maybe they were seeing this Dr. Evans and Dr. …”

“Winterwell.” Max finishes for him.

“But why wouldn’t he say anything to us about it?” Dustin asks, sounding lost while still going through the articles one by one.

“…maybe because he was afraid of how we’d react…” Max offers quietly when Lucas stays silent on the topic. He has his theories but he doesn’t want to say them out loud. It would sound too much like placing blame and that’s the last thing the Party needs right now.

“What do you mean?” Dustin asks sharply.

“I mean…” Max starts hesitantly but then pushes herself to finish. “…maybe he thought we’d treat Richie and him differently or have more reason to not let Richie know about any of it.”

“That doesn’t make any sense...” Dustin starts but Max shakes her head and simply gives Dustin another piece of loose leaf paper. This one is written almost all in Morse code with only a handful of words strewn about here and there. “…shit.” Dustin grabs the sheet from her and starts to translate. He’s the fastest one after Will having had his interest piqued the last time they’d been put in a position to use it which had led him to actually memorizing the damned code. The two of them watch him quietly, waiting for him to finish. He ends up grabbing a nearby pen to make some notes here and there. It takes a couple of minutes before he finally stops and just stares at them.

“Are there more like this?” He asks, hands grabbing the box and digging through the contents.

“Why? What does it say? Dustin!?” Dustin’s shaking his head impatiently before finding more, all of them woven in between other papers as if Mike had been determined to have them lost in the other content. Dustin’s shuffling through them before he makes a little _ah_ noise and starts to put them in some sort of order.

“What are you doing?”

“Guys, Mike was writing entries.” Dustin says hushed, eyes scanning some of the code and writing notes here and there while trying to explain. “Some of these date from before the Mage came back. His suspicions… the fact that…” The words stop short and Dustin gets up. “We need to take these somewhere else.” He whispers and simply writes on the back of one: The house is bugged. Not safe.

Max’s eyes widen and she bites her lip before simply getting up and dusting herself off.

“Let’s go then…”

…

They meet back up at the cabin. The fact that there’s the Morse Code spelled out on a poster makes it easier for them to split the handful of sheets amongst all of them and start translating each entry. Some of them are easier than others. They’re short and brusque – like the one about Hopper doing a perimeter sweep of the Wheeler house and Mike detailing where every device was located in the house. Some are longer and are more about his frustrations in not finding more about the different people who are or were part of the original MK Ultra studies.

Mostly though, they seem to be a listing of facts and the start to a timeline. Or timelines. One is El’s timeline that starts with Terry Ives joining the study, leaving the study, and the lawsuit that followed her supposed miscarriage all the way to El being found in the woods. There are others about missing children around that same time and questions about the children.

The entire gang isn’t sure how all of those articles and entries fit in with everything else. It doesn’t seem like Mike was sure about it either but had still thought it relevant enough to hold onto and to comment on. Only one of the articles on missing children makes El gasp in surprise as it reveals her sister. Kali. Eight. She looks so very young in that picture…

Her gasp makes Will look at her briefly and no one questions her as she takes the cut out article outside of the pile to keep. They know it will be a story that she’ll share with them at a later time. Hopefully, once Mike and Richie is back with them. But for now, they have to focus.

The last timeline is for a Maggie Manning. That timeline is confusing and it takes a bit to puzzle out because there are different iterations of it as if Mike had been trying to work it out and was missing chunks of data he needed. They were also the ones hardest to decipher simply because it was clear that he’d written and erased all the versions multiple times, so much so that some of the entries were on paper that had been thinned out and seemed more fragile than the rest.

However, it becomes clear that in May he’d gotten a big piece of that particular timeline confirmed. The last entry on it listed Richie and Mike’s name as being her sons, how they’d been separated, where and when Maggie had moved with a couple of different last names written with question marks near each, and a bullet point about needing to research a Went Tozier. There was also a question hurriedly written: Was she still part of the study when pregnant?

Nothing else. No answers. No articles or any notes on Went Tozier.

“How does this help us?” Max breaks the silence finally. “So Mike had a theory about their mom and Hawkins Lab…. What do we do with that?” At first her questions are greeted with blank stares. But Dustin doesn’t disappoint her as he pokes himself in the middle of the forehead.

“…It confirms what we’ve all been thinking…”

“That…what?” Lucas asks, trying to follow his friend’s logic.

“That Hawkin’s lab _is_ involved in their disappearance somehow. Mike was apparently just as suspicious about _all_ of it as I was, he was just looking at it from a different angle.”

“Go on.” Will mutters quietly.

“Instead of being suspicious of Richie, he was suspicious of all of the adults around the case. He jotted down the social workers managing Richie’s case while he was in Derry, the therapists, and the psychiatrist… he even listed the medications that they were prescribed and researched them to ensure that they were truly for sleep and anxiety and…” He looks back down at the one he’d just finished uncoding. “…ADHD.” (_That explained some things_).

“Yeah, he was suspicious but he didn’t find anything off. He writes himself that he couldn’t find any connection between Hawkins Lab and well… anyone new that was suddenly involved with them.”

“True,” Dustin mutters, absently chewing on the eraser of his pencil. “But that doesn’t mean that they weren’t… just that he couldn’t find any evidence of it.”

“Maybe Nancy would know if Richie and Mike continued to meet with any of these people…” Lucas offers and El shakes her head.

“No.” She starts quietly. “I know… they did. Mike and Richie were still meeting with Dr. Winterwell and Dr. Evans. At first it was twice a week but because they were doing better…” She trails off and Will isn’t surprised that Mike had told her about these meetings and not the rest of them. It still hurts though.

“He told you?!” Dustin asks. It doesn’t sound like he’s asking because of hurt. More like the good scientist that he is who wants to know more information. “Did he say anything about what they were meeting about?”

“No.” She shakes her head, eyes filling with tears that she wipes away angrily. “Just that the meetings were the reason why he couldn’t get away to see me as much. It became easier when Richie knew and when the meetings started to happen less frequently but…he never really talked about them beyond that.” Will takes her hand in his and squeezes it. The group stays quiet for a bit, digesting all the information.

Max finds herself once again moving towards breaking the silence. She needs to be active. She needs to be doing _something_.

“So we start with them…” She offers, knowing that if the suggestion isn’t found to be good that the rest of the Party will voice the reasons why they shouldn’t follow that plan of action. “Search out where their office is located, their home addresses and go from there. And maybe search for this… Went Tozier?”

“And not tell Hopper?” Dustin asks. All of them exchange glances before they each shake their head. They know that if they share this, all that they’re going to be told is to leave the investigation in his hands and to simply wait.

And they can’t do that.

Tbc... 

A/N - Thank you for all the love, support, and feedback as this story is getting written! It's meant the world to me!!! I wanted to let you all know that I'm working on posting 1-2 updates in the next couple of days and then I'll most likely be MIA for a week and a half as I'll be traveling (I'm debating whether I'll take my laptop or not, most likely will but I'm not sure how much time I'll have to write or even have access to the internet). Thanks for the understanding!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Party continues their investigation and it takes a dark turn so warning ahead regarding the darkness!!!

Chapter 4

Days 3 & 4

The easiest part had been tracking down Dr. Winterwell and Dr. Evan’s office address. Unfortunately, the office is too far for them to simply bike there. So then it became a debate to find a ride there without it leading to ‘a question and answer time’ that would bring the adults meddling into their search. Dustin had argued a pretty good case as to why Steve should be brought into the folds of their plan. Lucas had argued back as to why no. El hadn’t cared and simply wanted to go _already_ but then that was all shot to hell when Hopper arrived home. The furious outburst that the Party expected at having the man finding them holed up in the cabin never came. (_Thank goodness for Dustin’s foresight as he’d already packed up the contents of the shoebox, hiding it under a wooden panel in El’s bedroom floor). _

The Chief simply looked sad and incredibly tired as he looked at them all. Then even that expression was cleared away as he swallowed hard.

“It’s getting late guys. I’m taking you all home.” And the man does, even taking El along for the ride albeit in a costume made up of the man’s baggiest clothes and sunglasses. Clearly, he doesn’t trust her to not try and run off again.

Before he lets even one of them go off though, he gives them each a hard look and asks again to make sure that they’re not trying to do anything stupid. Like solve this one on their own. He even makes them promise to keep him in the loop if they do come across something or remember something. Again, _clearly,_ Hopper doesn’t trust them to leave it alone. And he _knows_ what promises mean to the group.

Sadly, he doesn’t know that promises mean little to them when they’re ones forcibly made to people outside of the Party.

So yeah, the easy part is tracking the office down. Dustin continues to do some research by sneaking back out to the Library and also by reviewing the Yellow Book’s content inside and out. By the next morning, he has other addresses and phone numbers written down including the doctors’ personal homes and Ms. Sandy’s… He’s all ready to share with the others (_couldn’t help but already have communicated some of this to Will via their supercomm last night because Lucas, the a-hole, hadn’t left his on)_ that he’d even made some calls while his mom had been busy feeding their cat.

Dr. Winterwell and Dr. Evans aren’t in today. They hadn’t been in the office for the past couple of days and no, the secretary had muttered sounding stressed and cross, she didn’t know when they would be back. He’d given her the number to the Hawkin’s Police Office when asked to provide a return number before thanking her.

Mike and Richie missing AND their doctors. Coincidence? Hell no.

The office _is_ far away though and so the Party is back to bickering about Steve and whether he’s _cool_ enough not to rat them out Hopper. And well, Nancy. Cause Nancy would definitely rat them out. She’s too close to this not to.

“Well we can’t take the bus there!” Dustin hisses. “It’ll take too long. As it is we’re wasting time people!”

“How about we hotwire a car? I can drive it.” Max jumps in. “You all know I can.”

“You nearly killed us in the process.” Dustin mutters sourly.

“Because you were being annoying. All of you. I needed to concentrate.”

“Wait. Hold up. You know how to hotwire a car?” Lucas demands, looking at Max as if she’s suddenly changed on him.

“Well…” She pulls at one of the longer strands of hair that’s hanging off her shoulders irritably. “No.” She admits, making a face. “But I know where my mom keeps the keys to her car…”

…

Nancy can’t think. She barely feels like she can breathe. The only reason she’s at home and not out there doing _something_… _anything_, is because her mother had entrusted her with Holly’s care. And if Nancy isn’t dealing well with the disappearance of both Mike and Richie, Holly is dealing with it even worse. Her little sister keeps vacillating between shocked confusion that has her ghosting behind their mother, little hand gripping hard wherever she can and asking where her brothers are and why aren’t they home to all out temper tantrums, demanding that Richie and Mike come home and that the adults find them _now_.

The screams and tears typically leave the youngest Wheeler child exhausted and everyone in their wake feeling like the nightmare is never ending.

Nancy knows her parents are talking to the police once again, answering questions about God knows what since none of them know anything. So she stays here, staring blankly ahead as Holly sucks her thumb, currently in ghost mode. It’s so silent between them that the ticking of the clock in the other room sounds deafeningly loud.

Her eyes feel dry. Her throat feels thick. Her stomach is cramped and her heart has yet to slow down. She feels sick.

She just wants them to come home.

A knock at the door has her jumping and Holly releases a quiet whimper. Together they make their way over and Nancy has to blink at the sight that is revealed behind the door. Jonathan and Steve are standing together awkwardly; Steve empty handed and Jonathan with a pizza box held out in front of him. It’s clear that they didn’t plan on coming at the same time and they’re not quite sure how to manage the situation. If it had been any other day, before the nightmare that hasn’t ended started, Nancy would have been amused at imagining the socially painful dance they must have gone through, each telling the other that it was okay, that the other could come back later. But right now, she simply blinks at them.

What do they want?

She’d already told Jonathan (_she thinks she remembers talking to him_) that she didn’t want company. She couldn’t handle the company.

And fuck… how had Jonathan survived when Will had been taken? How had he gone to school? How had he functioned? How had he managed not to tell her to fuck off when she’d gone up to him and offered him the most trite, the most stupid, and just _not_ in the slightest comforting words of _don’t worry, he’s a smart kid. He’ll be fine. _She knows that if anyone tried to tell her similar bull shit that she’d lose it on them. She doesn’t care about best intentions. She just…is scared and she hates. She truly and utterly hates whoever has Mike and Richie right now.

She wants to hurt them. Wants them to feel exactly what she’s feeling right here, right now.

So no. She can’t think beyond the raw emotions that are raging within her. And she can’t speak. She barely can breath and she’s worried if she opens her mouth, she’ll just start to scream. Nancy can only stare at the two standing in front of her, taking in how their awkward postures change to one of utter concern.

It’s like nails scratching at a chalkboard’s surface.

Holly’s small hand twists the fabric of her sweater causing Nancy to glance down at her briefly.

“Hiya Holly.” Jonathan starts quietly. “Hey Nancy. I figured you guys could use some food. We can go after that if you’re still not feeling up for company.”

Her previously dry eyes start to prickle and hurt and it’s not a fair fight as she tries to blink the sudden moisture away.

“Pizza?” Holly’s small voice doesn’t help. “What kind?” It’s barely above a whisper and seems as fragile as a butterfly’s wing.

“The best kind.” Jonathan answers, kneeling down to her height because of course he would. Jonathan is amazing and kind and knows how to be with kids. Why had she said no to him coming over again?

“What does that even mean?” Steve mutters, tone teasing. He also knows Holly’s favorite pizza toppings and starts to guess wild and outlandish toppings just to hear the little girl’s disgusted exclamations. The little hand that hadn’t released its hold on Nancy’s sweater since their mother had left hours ago finally loosens and Steve suddenly has an armful of a wriggling four year old girl and one pizza box, masterfully stolen from Jonathan with his other hand. Her ex is making his way confidently to the kitchen without a look back leaving Nancy and her boyfriend alone, still by the open door.

Jonathan stands up slowly, quirking an eyebrow up at Nancy in silent question if this is okay, finally looking straight at her. Whatever he sees on her face makes him move towards her until she’s buffered in his arms and crying quietly in his chest.

…

The drive is stressful, marked by shouts and curses when Max’s turns are wider and more haphazard than they should be. And that’s only inside the car. Outside of the car, other drivers have honked loudly at them and they’ve been provided with several rather _rude_ hand gestures by drivers who had managed to pass them. One had even gone so far as to stick his head outside his car window to yell at them to get off the road!

But they make it to their destination in one piece without getting pulled over and Max is damn proud of that feat. She just needs a minute to take a breath and chill for a bit before stepping outside of the car.

They’d decided against going to the main office since Dustin had already determined that Dr. Winterwell and Dr. Evans were out of the office. Instead after flipping the coin, they’d chosen to head straight for Dr. Winterwell’s home.

Max hears as Dustin leaves the car quickly, slamming the car door behind him with a muttered _Thank God _and _Never again_ that’s too loud to be subtle. She doesn’t care.

Part of her agrees with him even. Another part of her thinks that this would have been wicked cool if it wasn’t for the fact that she was breaking the law to try and find her missing friends.

“Coming?” Lucas asks, shaky hand coming over to squeeze her shoulder.

“Yeah, coming.” She says faintly, trying to throw him one of her cocky, devil may care grins.

They don’t get a chance to leave the car though before Will and Dustin come back. They had heard their voices, dimly but neither had been paying attention. So it’s a bit of a surprise to see them come back inside the car, closing the doors behind them without much of an explanation.

“What’s going on?” Max twists around in her seat to stare at them. “Is this not the house?”

Dustin shakes his head, digging at the neatly folded map and trying to shake it open.

“It is.” Will mutters. “It’s just, Dr. Winterwell’s neighbor saw us and told us we’d missed the family. She said she’d seen them leave a couple of days ago in a van and was sure that they must have left on their yearly family vacation early. They have a summer home in the woods not too far from here.”

“She told you all that?” Lucas is surprised and slightly perturbed. He hopes none of his damned neighbors paid that close attention to what his family did. And he also hopes that they wouldn’t share it with anyone who just happened to stop by. Still this is a damn lucky break for their own selfish reasons. Will gives a slight shrug, adjusting the way his seatbelt lays against his shoulder and chest.

“Dustin charmed her. And she seemed lonely…”

“She’s what my mom will be like when I’m off to college.” Dustin pipes up, not unkindly. “Alone with the company of a cat or two. Anyways, I know where to go…”

…

The man, Dr. Brenner, had left them yesterday alone in the white box of a room to simmer in their thoughts and knowledge that they weren’t getting out of this mess for a long time to come. Neither had said a word and Richie was sure that neither had been able to sleep.

The start to the new day is marked with Dr. Brenner coming to get them along with another staff member. The aide is unremarkable beyond the look of utter devotion to the doctor. The man said nothing, did nothing without first being told to do so. An android would have had more free will.

The twins are told to come and they get up wordlessly to follow.

“I thought I would show you something. Perhaps a little incentive for us to work…collaboratively.”

The goosebumps that erupt on his skin can’t be rubbed away and Richie walks closer to Mikey as they make their way through what seems like endless hallways. He tries to keep track of each twist and turn, to spot something that may help them in the long run but all that he gets for his effort is a tension headache. He knows with the way the tension is practically causing Mikey to vibrate next to him that his twin must be doing the same and coming to similar conclusions. This place is a fucking maze.

After what seems like miles upon miles of a trek in nondescript hallways, they’re finally ushered into a small room that has a television screen settled on a table. It’s turned on and the picture quality isn’t the best. It’s grainy with white lines quickly coming down through the image every so often.

Richie doesn’t know how this is going to be an incentive exactly but he’s not entirely sure that he wants to understand. Still, he can’t look away and he sits when he’s told to. Mikey does the same in a more stiff manner besides him.

“It’s on the right channel?” Dr. Brenner asks and the aide nods.

“The volume is on as well, sir.”

“Very well. Thank you Brian.”

Richie leans in to get a better look. At first glance, he’d thought that there was nothing really to see even if the television had been on. But he’d been wrong. There are people that are barely visible in the dim lighting of what appears to be a cabin. They’re eerily still though and…

Mikey takes in a sharp hiss of a breath beside him as noise suddenly spills from the television. It’s all loud echoing knocks and Richie stiffens at the sound of Dusty’s voice calling out politely yet slightly muffled, “Hello? Hello? Dr. Winterwell? Is anybody home?” The still figures don’t react and Richie finds himself squinting at the screen. What the fuck is all of this? Why is Dusty there? What is he doing? He wants to yell at Dusty to get away. To just turn around and _run_ and can’t help gripping the table’s metal surface hard as a fresh new wave of adrenaline surges through him.

The door that is out of the camera’s line of vision is suddenly opened and allows daylight to cast the whole macabre scene into light.

Mikey and Richie are left staring at the screen in mindless horror at what they see. There’s nothing left to say. And the minute slump in Mikey’s shoulder tells Richie that whatever fight, whatever hope Mikey had been holding onto simply leaves him in stunned defeat and grief.

…

On the other side of the television screen, miles from the lab and actually in the wooded cabin, with no knowledge that they’re being filmed, the Party stay paralyzed where they are, the door swinging shut behind them. The change in lighting doesn’t erase the scene that’s in front of them. The way the two children and woman are tied to a chair, mouths taped shut, and blood long dried around where the bullet had hit them right in the forehead and where it had sprayed in the back. The way the man in a suit is crumpled to the ground, gun in hand, and also very dead.

Dustin is the first to gag, spin around and run out because he’s already put it altogether and these people _are_ dead. They’ve been executed and oh fuck this is bad, bad, bad! This is worse than bad.

Lucas can’t move. He knows that if he does, it’ll somehow make the macabre scene in front of him real and he can’t have this be real. Because this is much worse than anything else the Party has encountered and he’s not sure that he’s ready for this level of danger. There’s hopelessness and despair that’s rising inside of him along with the nausea that the buzzing of flies (_it’s so loud now, why is it so loud?_) around the bodies is causing. If this is at all tied to Mike and Richie…Fuck it was good that they’d talked El not to come with them and instead asked her to continue searching for Mike and Richie via the Void. Or was it? What if the killer was still here?

The trembling that takes over stops him from finishing the thought and Max is suddenly there gripping his hand in a hold that is so tight that it hurts as much as it is grounding.

Will is the one who starts to move around the cabin. He looks like he’s moving without really taking anything in but that’s far from the truth. He’s sidestepping the bodies, silent tears running down his face, as he looks for any indication that Mike and Richie may have been here… or worse… are still here. He stumbles upon it and chokes hard but it can’t be changed. There’s the leather chord and he knows that if he gets on his hands and knees he’ll probably find all the white and black lettered beads spelling out his friend’s name. It’s not a conscious decision as he falls and starts to desperately gather them one by one, splinters breaking through skin in tiny pricks that his mind ignores.

“…no, no… no…”

“Will, we have to get out of here man. Will!” Lucas is grabbing at him and pulling him up.

“They were here, Lucas! They were here!”

“Will, there’s no time!” And the reason there’s no time is because there’s a car pulling up the driveway and, and, and… Will lets himself be pulled up, hands gripping tightly at the pieces of the broken bracelet he had managed to gather. They’re trying to get out a different way, Dustin back with them, face pale and panicked but the only other way out is a broken window and…

It’s Hopper’s silhouette that fills the doorway and Dustin starts to cry in relief.

“Jesus kids…” The man grouses and he’s suddenly encircled by the Party members. His priority shifts from continuing the investigation to getting the kids out of the cabin and into his car.

He has no idea how much damage to the crime scene they’ve managed in the time that they’ve been here. He has no fucking idea how they managed to piece it together in the first place and beat him here… too fucking smart for their own good.

But it’s proof again that he can’t keep them out of this and yet he wants to, because it’s too fucking dangerous and he’s not entirely sure who or what they’re dealing with.

This isn’t one of the days that he’s going to be coming home to El with good news again and his heart bleeds because of it.

Tbc... 

A/N - Hello everyone, I'm going to do my best to update one last time before I fly and am out of the country. If I am able to do so, it'll either be Wednesday night or Thursday morning AND for all of you who have been patiently waiting, the next chapter will be from the Loser's perspective!!!! LOVE YOU ALL!!! Thanks for continuing to be on this wild ride with me. <3 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Losers get involved...

Chapter 5

Day 5, 6, 7, 8, & 9

Bill is distracted as he uncurls the newspaper for his father, tilting his head and half nodding to his mother’s question of whether he wants mayo on his sandwich as she puts the finishing touches on his lunch that he’s planning on taking with him when he meets up with the rest of the Losers. It’s still a recent change to have her invested in his life and helping out like this again. He’s pretty sure he knows why but thinking about the why just makes him feel like shit so he typically just moves on with his day, brushing the thoughts aside as quickly as they come to him.

His father hasn’t quite come down yet but he knows he will and he straightens the newspaper out further on the placemat facing his father’s spot at the table. His eyes scan the titles and the gray-scale photographs headlining the front page because it’s there but he’s not actually reading or taking any of the information in. There’s never anything there that’s caught his attention before and there’s no funny page since it isn’t the weekend yet. Bill’s actually already turned away and has the fridge open when it hits him. His hand still closes around the milk carton, the pearls of condensation making it cold and slippery and he pulls the container out of the fridge door in one sweeping motion as his brain starts to explode. It can’t be…

His body is turning back to the table, back to the newspaper and as he goes to look more closely to prove that his brain is ridiculous and wrong and overly tired, he can’t help but take a deep breath in. The carton of milk slips from his hands because it _is_…He feels the milk come shooting out and slap against his jeans and he hears his mother’s distraught voice but all of that seems far away and distant. Bill grabs the newspaper and turns away from the kitchen hurriedly.

“Bill!” He hears her calling to him but doesn’t respond.

“Bill?” His father is standing at the bottom of the steps and puts a hand out to stop him from getting to the front door. “Don’t you hear your mother calling you?” He gives the man an impatient shake of the head.

“S-s-sorry, I have to go,” He mumbles before slipping past. And he does. This can’t fucking wait. He has to get this to the other Losers and… and…

Silver is rustier than ever but still in working condition and it only takes him a second to hop on and start pedaling furiously to Stanley’s house. If there are any of the Losers that will read the newspaper it’s Stanley and if he sees what Bill’s seeing well… He wants to be there. He wants to have Stanley confirm that he isn’t going crazy and that it _is_ true. And fuck, if it is… if it really is, then they need to call the others and come up with a game plan because there’s no way in hell that they’re letting Richie remain missing.

He jumps off his bike while it’s still rolling and doesn’t look back even when he hears it fall hard to the ground, the wheel that’s in the air spinning erratically. He’s out of breath but it doesn’t seem to matter as he starts to take Stanley’s front porch steps two at a time. He’s pushing hard on the ringer and hoping that it’s Stanley that opens the door and not his parents.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He’d known it deep in his gut that something was _wrong_. It wasn’t like Richie not to contact them. Not to let them know obnoxiously and loudly that he was alive, motherfuckers and to nag at them about whether they’d missed him or not. But the whole situation had been a fucking mess from start to wherever they were now and it had taken all of them awhile to even be able to process that their bigger than life pain in the butt had tried to kill himself and that they’d been this close to losing him. This close…

He still wakes up at times with the image of Richie’s blood all over Eddie and Eddie screaming at them shrilly to call 911, for once not fearing about the AIDS epidemic and getting sick from whatever new blood born pathogen he’d just learned about that week. Eddie had been relentless in trying to staunch the blood flow until the professionals had taken over. Richie had disappeared into the hospital and then completely out of Derry and no one, not one _fucking_ person could be bothered to tell any of them where he’d been taken.

They’d tried _everything_ to get even a morsel of information. With Ben and Stanley taking turns imitating adult voices – whether it be another “doctor” on staff, a DCF worker, or a “family member” – they’d always ended up hitting some sort of wall when they were finally caught in their own lie. Even getting their parents involved hadn’t helped them get any answers. The hospital staff kept a wall of stony silence under the guise of doctor-patient confidentiality and oh so sorry, if you’re not related to him in anyway, then there’s really nothing we can do…

And how to explain to those stuffy assed shirts about how the Losers were related on a much deeper level than family and biology? They were so much closer than family, they understood each other… they would kill for each other…

Even DCF had maintained the silence. Albeit they’d been a bit more apologetic, especially to Bill’s family as they at least acknowledged how they’d been involved in Richie’s care right after all hell had broken loose. But all they could say following the apology was that Richie had been placed with family and that it would be up to Richie to contact them. They could not share anything else.

The Losers had tried waiting, some more patiently than others, but all in all it had been hard to swallow. The fucking hospital hadn’t even been willing to confirm that Richie had been alive… at least DCF had… Anyway, they’d been stuck in the waiting, hoping that a call would come and they’d hear their friend’s loud but cheerful voice, animated in a way that only Richie could be and ready for this colorful but vivid explanation of what had happened following the trip to the hospital.

But no call ever came.

Stanley had been the one to voice what everyone else had been stewing internally with – that maybe Richie was angry at them. Angry for saving him. And that he wouldn’t ever be calling them. The words had been hesitantly offered and the way Eddie had blown up at hearing them still made Bill wince. Eddie had left, like the little thundercloud that he was, and it had taken them months to get him to come hang out with them again. Still, the words remained between all of them. Heavy and awkward and untouchable… The entire topic of Richie had become taboo.

Just like Beverly slowly slipping away from them.

Bill swallows hard, throat tight. He can’t go there right now. He can’t think about it all because… he has to stay focused. He has to stay in the here and now and show Stanley the newspaper article. He’d never believed that Richie wasn’t contacting them out of anger. He’d always felt like something more had to be at play. Now he has proof…

The door swings open and Stanley’s pale face is revealed. He’s frowning slightly, more out of confusion than irritation. “Bill?”

“I f-f-found him…” Bill cuts his friend off before he can say anything else and pushes the newspaper up. He sees his friend’s eyes widen and then the newspaper gets yanked out of his hands roughly.

“No way… no fucking way…”

“Yeah, yeah…We, we need to t-t-tell the others.”

…

When the phone rings, Karen jumps for it. Just like she has for every day since Mike and Richie’s disappearance. Her heart goes to her throat and hopes war with fears as she strains to hear over the rush of blood and thundering heartbeat. She can’t help the thoughts of _have they been found?_ Or _are they alive?_ Or _Please, please don’t let them be dead. _

The voice on the other end isn’t Hopper’s. It sounds young and hesitant. It’s not a reporter and for that she is suddenly very grateful. But she is confused.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“H-h-hello. M-m-my name is B-b-bill. I…” There’s some shuffling and the sound of a deep gulp of breath being taken in. “I’m Richie’s friend. F-from Derry.”

…

Bill hangs up the phone and looks at his friends who all have mirroring expressions of worry on their faces. It’s clear to him that they want an update even though they’ve heard his side of the conversation already. And they should know just from that – that there is _no_ good news. He chews the inside of his cheek and feels his shoulders droop before shaking his head wordlessly.

“Fuck…” The curse is spoken softly at first. “What the fuck is _wrong_ with all of you?! Why tell us you’ve found him when he’s just…_fucking missing_!” The chair that Eddie had been perched on the very edge screeches as he pushes himself off of it. “FUCK!” He yells at the top of his lungs. He’s a flurry of violent movement and the slamming of the door is just as loud as his yell. Eddie is gone and the rest of the Losers are left staring at each other.

“Should one us go after him?” Mike asks finally, tone of voice soft and gentle. And heartbreakingly sad.

“What would that do?” Stanley sighs, arms crossing tightly in front of him. “He’ll just bite our heads off. Better let him blow off some steam first…”

“I’m s-s-sorry.” Billy starts and all eyes are back on him. Stanley looks offended by the apology, pale face frowning at him. Mike just seems sad and tired and slightly confused while Ben is shaking his head.

“What the fuck for?” Stanley mutters. “_You_ didn’t kidnap Richie. And I’m glad you told us. We at least know where he _was _and maybe can do _something_ now.” There’s a pause though that feels heavy and ominous before Stanley sighs a little brokenly. “Though I’m not sure what the hell we can do…”

“What did Mrs. Wheeler say Bill?” Mike prods gently.

“Just that…its’ an a-a-active investigation and that they h-haven’t h-h-heard anything but they’re still hopef-f-ful.” He relays dutifully, glossing over the fact that Mrs. Wheeler hadn’t sounded hopeful. She’d sounded tired and broken and _scared_. And so, so, so sad to learn that the Losers had been searching for Richie ever since his hospital stay. “She…” His throat spasms and he has to stop and close his eyes for a minute. In his mind, he repeats _He thrusts his fists against the posts, and still he insists he sees the ghosts. _When the muscles loosen, he tries again. “She p-p-promised to keep us updated.”

“Are their leads?” Ben asks. Bill simply shrugs. He hadn’t actually gotten many details.

“What are you thinking?” Mike is looking at Ben.

“Well…” Ben clears his throat. “We all know how well adults investigate kidnappings in small towns.”

“Derry’s different man.” Mike mutters. “It was cursed by that _fucking_…” He makes a motion with his hands and doesn’t continue with the descriptors. He doesn’t actually have to. It hasn’t been so long that the memory is dead and buried away for any of them. If anything, Richie’s confirmed kidnapping has returned _It _to the forefront of Bill’s mind like nothing else could have. “Not everyplace is like that and _It’s _dead. We killed him.”

“We don’t know that…” Ben counters. “We know _It_ disappeared but to be honest until 27 years pass, I’m not holding my breath.” Well that’s foreboding. Bill sees out of the corner of his eye that Stanley has gone pale white and is holding onto himself in a tight grip, as if he doesn’t dare let go and touch the scars that still stand out prominently on his cheeks. “We don’t even know what _It_ was.”

“But you think there may be more like _It_…” The question is too horrendous to contemplate and Mike looks sick at the mere thought. Bill has to admit that he finds his own stomach doing it’s best to upchuck what’s in it because…_no. Just no._ But at the same time, now that the possibility is out there, he knows he can’t just let it go. He can’t just ignore it. Because if there are other _Its_, that means their may be other Georgies, other missing children, and families left to ruins by their unexplained disappearances. And that cannot be allowed to continue. And even more so if Richie’s one of them. After all, he’d promised Richie. He’d _fucking_ promised him that he wouldn’t let that missing poster child of him in Neibolt house become true.

Ben is shrugging his shoulders, looking anxious. “Dude, I don’t want it to be true but, I’m just saying. We don’t know shit.”

“B-b-ut you th-think we could do b-b-b-better than adults…?” He prompts Ben because one thing he’s learned about the _new kid_ as Bev had so fondly dubbed him, Ben is smart and always has more information from the wide variety of books he’s read than anybody else he’s met. He also thinks Ben is right. They could do better than the adults. They have done better. Not that anyone in Derry knows anything about _that_.

“Well yeah, we’ve done it before.” Ben confirms, his words strikingly close to Bill’s own thoughts. “I could go to the library, see all there is to learn about Hawkins. Maybe there’s a pattern to be found.” Bill is nodding at that while thinking about other details. He doesn’t just want to do research – although he gets that it’s important and they’re going to need it. He’s just jumping ahead and thinking about how the hell they’re all going to get to Hawkins once the research is done. He glances at Mike and isn’t startled to find that those large brown eyes are watching him carefully.

“I t-think we can do better t-too. Richie needs us.” His voice takes on a determined edge. “Ben, go to the library, see what you can find. Mike, you have that special permit right?”

“To drive on the farm… yes…” The answer is slow. “I can’t take the truck from the farm, Bill. My grandfather would kill me.” Bill nods at that, discarding that idea with a slight shake of his head. It had been farfetched anyway but he hadn’t wanted to discount it without at least asking. The bus it’ll have to be.

The plan that’s formulating in his head starts to take shape. It shows because as Bill continues to talk, his voice becomes more confident and his stuttering disappears. It’s happened before on a handful of occasions. Only Richie’s been bold enough to point out the observation though and so it goes unsaid this time around.

They’re about to split up with each of them having different roles – Mike to get gear from the farm, Stanley and Bill to get food and money for the bus tickets, and Ben to the library – when the door bell rings. The sound doesn’t do shit in changing the mood that has wrapped itself around the teens. If anything, especially when Eddie’s tearstained face is revealed behind the door, it just strengthens the group’s resolve. Bill welcomes Eddie back in, wordlessly shaking his head as the shorter boy starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I just…” He’s rubbing angrily at his damp cheeks leaving them red yet dry. “I need Richie _back_.”

“I know.” Bill says vehemently, catching Stanley’s eye over Eddie’s head. “We’re going to bring him back. I promise Eddie, we’ll bring him _home._”

…

It’s a couple of days later that the Losers (_sans Beverly and Richie, obviously_) meet up at the bus station. Stanley is methodically counting their money before going to the ticket counter and ordering the right ones. The guy barely gives them a glance; monotone voice confirming that it’s a round trip and not a one way. There’s no questioning of where they’re going and why and what’s with the lack of adult supervision and Bill breathes just a bit easier because of it.

He and Stanley had come up with a story to tell all of their parents about where they’d be that surprisingly (_or not_) they’d all managed to swallow and accept after a couple of follow-up questions here and there. Well, Eddie had come up with his own story. But his mom was a special case (_always had been_) and it was only because Eddie had threatened to run away and _not _come back, that she’d relented and allowed her _Eddie Bear_ to join this “summer camp”. They were now good to search for Richie without worrying their families for at least seven days. He just hopes it’ll be enough time.

Next to him, Ben is fiddling with the strap of his backpack that is digging into his meaty shoulder.

“D-do you need h-h-help?” Bill asks, realizing that out of all their packs, Ben’s and Mike’s are probably the heaviest. Ben with books and printouts of various articles that he’d promised he’d review with them once they were on their way and Mike with whatever gear (_weapons_) he’d managed to stash from the farm without his grandfather noticing. Stanley, Bill, and Eddie had split up amongst themselves food, water, clothing, and a first aid kit.

Ben shakes his head at the offer, giving Bill a little distracted smile.

“Do you know that it’ll take us approximately 20 hours to get there? Maybe more depending on how many stops the bus will need to take. If we could drive ourselves, it’d be more like 16 but maybe not. It’s hard to take into account things like traffic.” He’s rambling a bit but Bill doesn’t mind listening. Although, it makes him frown that it’s going to take them _that_ long until they reach Hawkins. “Now the fastest would be by plane. And that’s…”

Mike’s making a slow whistle while shaking his head.

“Boy, where do you keep all of that information stored?” Ben flushes at the question but grins.

“What? It’s cool.”

“Uh huh…” But the smile that’s on Mike’s face is kind and the tone in his voice is only mildly teasing. There’s a yearning in Bill to hear Richie’s ebullient voice popping up to say “_no, no… not cool…”_ amusement clear in the teasing tone gentling the words that could have otherwise ripped Ben’s self-esteem down. But there’s silence instead and Bill just swallows hard.

“What did you learn about Hawkins?” Stanley asks as he joins them, passing tickets to each of them in turn. Eddie gives his a weird look and without saying anything, Stanley simply rolls his eyes and keeps it for him. No doubt Eddie doesn’t want to touch something that has about a billion different germs on there.

Ben plays with his for a bit and then says with only a slightly shaky voice, “Well, it doesn’t have quite the long history as Derry does. But weird things have happened there.”

“Derry like weird things?” Mike asks, broad shoulder tensing.

“…I don’t know. How would you quantify a kid going missing, being found dead and buried by his family only to have him be found alive a couple days later? Or a lab being found guilty for killing a teenager and having tried to bury the truth?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Eddie mutters, eyes wide.

“That’s…” Mike shakes his head again and glances at where a bus is coming their way. Hopefully it’s the one they need to get on. It’s hot and humid already and he can feel the sweat forming where his backpack is resting against his back. He knows it’s hot and humid. But Ben’s words are leaving him chilled too.

“W-w-when?” Bill asks. Ben glances at him while biting his bottom lip nervously. He’d done the math, of course he’d done the math. Because the second he’d found the newspaper clippings, his heart had dropped. He hadn’t wanted to be _right_ about this for once. He had wanted to be able to come back to his friends and tell them that he’d been able to find nothing strange. Nothing Derry level strange at least. But he’d found something alright. It wasn’t quite the high rates of adult deaths and missing and dead children in lovely quaint old Derry but it was still… bizarre.

Ben’s stomach had tightened and frozen and he hadn’t been able to eat since finding the few articles he’d found. He’d felt slightly better surrounded by his friends and it had been easier to babble about random facts rather than focus on what he’d found. Rather than put to words the thoughts that he’d started to have as he’d blindly made copies of what he’d found at the library.

They’re all looking at him, nervous and tight in their muscles as they wait for him to just say it.

“About the same time as when…” He swallows hard and then expels the air hard through his nose. “… the first kids here started going missing back in September…”

Ben can’t look at Bill’s face when he says the month that Georgie disappeared. He knows it’ll be like seeing someone get sucker punched.

Tbc...

A/N - You're all amazingly awesome! I hope you all know that!!! You're ongoing support leaves me wordless. <3 I'll be back and hopefully posting regularly after my travels are done. Sending you all much love and wishes of great days ahead! 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Losers are traveling to Hawkins, the twins are trying to make sense of what's happening to them while the Party are trying to shake off the shock of what they found in that cabin.

Chapter 6

Day 8 and 9

The brain craves routine and so it creates one even when there’s little to work with. There are still no windows or clocks to be able to tell when day starts and when night ends. But there are visits and walks outside the room that becomes theirs and theirs alone.

Brian - the no expression, no free will, no better than a lifeless android of a man - becomes their routine. That and the armed guard that always seems to follow him now that Dr. Brenner is gone. He comes and gets them, walking them from one room to the next depending on the goal for the day. Whether it’s to get blood work done and other measurements such as their height, weight, and blood pressure or to start testing them for ESP. Extrasensory perceptions. Because according to Dr. Brenner, their mother’s role in these experiments had made them Sensitives. Not quite like Eleven whose ESP had been clear from day one but… individuals with untapped potential. Malleable with the right _incentives_ and_ programming._

Of course, there were naturally born Sensitives and Dr. Brenner had his eye on one to take their places if they failed to live up to this… potential. Mike didn’t want the poor bastard to have that fate forced upon them, whoever it was. He also didn’t want to remain here. And there was a feeling that even if they didn’t live up to their potential, it wasn’t like they’d get a free pass back to their family and friends. There was also this other feeling telling him that he somehow _knew_ who the other Sensitive that Dr. Brenner already had identified and would be incredibly upset at having them pulled in.

Richie had scoffed at first, the Voices strained and lame in his attempt to … Mike wasn’t quite sure what had been Richie’s goal to be honest. To distract their new guardian and freak scientist from experimenting on them? To show the absurdity of their new reality? Maybe. Whatever. It hadn’t worked.

Mike himself hadn’t been able to quite stay in the present moment. His mind had been stuck replaying the grainy scene in the cabin. It’s funny, maybe funny was the wrong word, but it was the sounds that got to him the most. Hearing his friends’ voices and their reactions to the sight, hearing Will desperately saying that they’d been there… and then Hopper.

Mike closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

The Party and Hopper had been close to finding them he supposes. Just days late. And now? Now he isn’t sure he wants them to continue looking.

The _incentive_ had been clear.

Be good lab rats and we’ll let your friends live. But best hope they don’t come sticking their noses too close or else…

The best threat hadn’t even needed to be verbalized.

Today must be an ESP day. Mike winces but doesn’t open his eyes as cold gel is placed in different spots against his forehead and temple. The electrodes follow next and warm up quickly to the temperature of his skin. Nothing is said as they’re placed carefully but Richie is humming under his breath somewhere in the room. Mike can’t concentrate long enough to identify the song. He’s not sure it matters in the long run.

The calloused hands leave him and there’s the swishing of a lab coat brushing against clothes as the man walks away. The humming stops and Mike knows that it’s Richie’s turn to get prepped.

“Twelve, you’ll stay here while Thirteen, you’ll come with me.” That’s new and it makes Mike’s eyes fly open just in time to see Richie’s expression take on a look of fear.

“What? Why?”

It’s the sound of the guard straightening up in a threatening way that answers his question. Mike catches Richie’s eye and shakes his head. Don’t fight this. Just go. Just follow.

The fresh tattoo still aches and pulls at his skin on his wrist. He knows Richie’s does too. Brian has never uttered their names out loud. He’s only used their numbers. He never realized how dehumanizing it actually would be. Intellectually and maybe instinctively, he’d known but to actually experience it? It was different in a visceral way. Mike knows he’ll be whispering their real names over and over in the white box of a room once they’re back so that they can hold on to them. He’s not Twelve. He’s Mike. Mikey. Mikey-baby even. But he’ll never be Twelve. Just like Richie isn’t Thirteen. And he’s not bad luck. Whatever his twin says.

Richie makes a noise but gets up with Brian and walks with him out of this room. The door shuts and Mike is left with just the guard and his gun. He doesn’t know how much time passes but it feels never ending.

When they’re finally reunited and given a shot of _something_ before being rushed back into their rooms, Mike doesn’t even have to ask before Richie starts to explain, ignoring the bar that is supposed to be food that they’ve been given to eat. “I was shown pictures. Loads of them that I was supposed to _think_ at you. Do they even know how fucking _crazy _they are?”

Mike simply shakes his head. What else can be said?

…

It takes the Party members days to recover from their day at the Winterwell’s cabin. Hopper tells Nancy, Steve and Jonathan where he found them and what they saw in hopes that the older teens will help him in his quest to keep the younger ones out of the investigation from here on out. It’s also more than that. He wants to make sure they stay safe and that they have someone in their lives that they can talk to.

He isn’t aware that even without his intervention, Steve and Jonathan would have found out anyway. Still, it had helped because none of the Party members had been in any shape to put their experiences into words. Dustin took comfort in Steve’s presence and the brotherly banter had been what had helped soothe him more than even his mother and their family cat greeting him that night could have. It’s helpful that his mother has long ago accepted that he’s eccentric because she doesn’t question why Steve is suddenly staying over for sleepovers despite their obvious age gap. Honestly, she’s just happy for the company and witty conversations.

Lucas stays with his family. It’s isolating in some ways, not having someone he lives with that _knows_, like really knows but it’s also buffering. He can hide in the confines of the four walls of his family home and pretend like everything is fine. Everything is normal as long as he doesn’t step outside and see his friends. Or turn the television on which still talks about Mike and Richie’s disappearance. When it is turned on, he slips out from that particular room and picks a fight with his bratty sister to drown out the sound. It may be cowardly but he needs it and grips onto it with a death hold.

Max’s situation is a bit more complex. After all, she’d been scheduled to fly out and see her dad. She’d been looking forward to it ever since she’d moved to Hawkins, Indiana. And now? She’s canceled her trip. Her mother looks at her with sad understanding eyes even though she doesn’t know shit. Max cries in her room where no one can see and no one can hear her. She’s not crying about the trip, although maybe a small part of her is. She’s crying because she wants her dad. She wants her old life in a way she hasn’t in months now. She’s also crying because she’s scared. She’d gotten lost in the earlier adrenaline and confidence that they’d fix things because they’d fixed things before and the Party is fucking invincible! They have a mage for God’s sake… but now…Now, there’s a part of her that’s convinced Mike and Richie are dead and there’s no fixing that.

Will follows Jonathan or maybe it’s Jonathan following Will. It’s a bit hard to differentiate because both want to be in the same space. It vacillates between the Wheeler household and El’s cabin in the woods or when their mother is home, Hopper drops El off at their house. In the first option, Will finds himself spending his time with Nancy and Holly, carefully watching the sisters and how his brother seamlessly fits himself into their relationship. He watches as his brother takes on mundane tasks that he’s always done in their own household and suddenly gets clarity as to how much Jonathan actually does to keep everything working smoothly forward. He coddles when needed, he challenges and pushes when needed, and he provides comfort and space too. It’s always a balm and Will hopes that he can only gain that much skill at helping one day. In the second option, Will finds himself keeping El company with Jonathan taking a less active role. He gets used to the sight and the smell of blood because it’s always present. Whether it pulls other images to the forefront of his mind depends on the time and day and his mood. In the last option, his mother flits between all of them anxiously wanting to mother them and do more than is actually humanly possible. However, she’s pulled off several miracles already so he’s not ready to dismiss the possibility outright.

Will has overheard every conversation between his mother and Hopper and has loved her with every cell of his being even more than he thought was possible. She’s a fighter and she’s fighting for Mike and Richie just as much as she’d fought for him.

It’s comforting.

It’s also what helps snap him out of the numbing fog that has wrapped around him the second Hopper had stepped into that cabin.

His mother is fighting, searching for Mike and Richie and what the hell is he doing besides shuffling between the three households, fingers mindlessly playing with the beads he’d picked up? What is the Party doing?

Nothing.

Will let’s go of the beads he’d currently been rolling between his fingers. He knows that they’ll be safe in his pocket. His fingers come to find his supercomm and switches it on. It crackles to life and El stirs next to him. She’s so pale these days. There are dark circles under her eyes and he wonders if he looks the same. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s had a full night’s sleep.

“Lucas? It’s Will. Over.” When the supercomm calls don’t work, he reaches out by phone. One by one. And one by one, each party member turns their supercomms back on again, shaking the shock and grief off. It’s hard and some find it harder to shake off then others. The hesitance and fear and anger are hard to fight off as well. But Will’s able to find the words that help spark the hope back up.

And any hope is better than none.

…

His upper arm is sore and Richie swears under his breath viciously as the syringe is stuck rather viciously there like it has been for the past several days. The fucker could have the decency to change arms once in awhile. But nooo, it’s like the asshole got off on the fact that this one part of his arm was now starting to look like a fucking pincushion.

“You know C3PO had more personality than you. And fucking better bedside manners.” He yanks his arm free once Android pulls the needle out of his skin. “What the fuck are you shooting us up with anyway?” Richie hisses, trying to rub the area, ignoring how the bead of blood is now smearing on his pale skin and tips of his fingers. Whatever the fuck it is, he hates how it makes him feel.

It always starts with his heart starting to thump hard in his chest, blood swarming into his ears, and then the feeling of being flushed hits. Sometimes it starts with his toes, sometimes it starts elsewhere in his body but it always comes. Inevitably, he will start to sweat and he’ll feel like his body is swaying even when sitting still. The lights in the room flicker and become life like. Real. Dancing in the room and he’s sworn he’s heard the lights speak to him.

Mikey says it’s not true. But he’s heard them speak. And they say nothing good. Always doom and gloom and portents of ill omens. The walls vibrate with the sound of the lights speaking and, and…sometimes if Mikey is in the room with him, which more often then not, he is, Mikey _melts. _He’s there but he’s not, like he’s constantly melting and being re-made in front of him. And it doesn’t matter how often and how loudly he tells Mikey to stop, he doesn’t. He can’t.

Colors become too frantic. Noises too physical. It’s like all his senses are under assault and his brain is trying to match Mikey’s melting because he can feel it liquefying in the space between his ears. One day he knows it’s just going to spill out and go drip, drip, drip and hey, at least he won’t be floating. No, no. Never floating. Floating bad. Simply dripping.

Drip, drip…

It’s starting again.

He can tell.

Drip.

Richie tries to catch Mikey’s eyes. Tries to ground himself in the reality of his twin but it doesn’t help. It has yet to help.

One time, he’d tried to close his eyes. It had been like seeing the inside of his body. All bloody red with lightning arcing behind his closed lids before suddenly seeing his mother’s dead dull eyes staring back at him. He’d nearly scratched his own eyes open in response and had rolled off the cot.

Mikey had said…

Mikey…

Richie closes his eyes briefly, not wanting to but not able to help it either as they’re watering, but his mother’s eyes are there. Waiting for him. They’re always open now. Staring. Waiting.

He wonders if his lips become hers. He wonders if he opens his mouth now that his lips are hers if she’ll speak the words out loud that Mikey has never let him hear. Had always woken him before he could hear them.

He licks his lips and finds his tongue to be heavy. Wet. Yet dry. Rough yet soft. Tingling. He licks his lips again.

And again.

There is noise that spills the air and the air shimmers with the noise and tickles his entire body. It’s laughter. Is it his? Is it hers? Is it Mikey’s?

Mikey. Mikey. Mikey.

Drip, drip, drip…

Hello Mother…

Drip.

Bye bye Brain.

Drip.

Tbc... 

A/N - Thank you everyone for all of the continued support and kind words. I am back and had safe travels. :) I promise that the next chapter will have the Losers and the Party meeting for all of you waiting for that moment. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Losers Club and the Party collides this is what happens in Hawkins, Indiana.

Chapter 7

Day 10

“Who the hell are you?!” The voice is deep and suspicious and makes all of them jump out of their half crouch in the bushes near the house. “What the _fuck_ are you all doing?!” It’s a boy, about their age and scowling at them darkly. He’s got a military bandana around his head and he’s clearly not alone in having discovered them.

“Oh God! Oh Fuck!” Eddie is muttering under his breath by Bill’s side as they take in the rest of the people who’ve found them.

“Creeps. Bet you they’re all creepers wanting to spy on Nancy. We should call Hopper. Or better yet, Steve.” A second voice adds to the first.

“Shut up Dustin.” It’s a girl’s voice this time. “Do either of you even recognize these mouth breathers?” She asks, tone demanding as she glances at her counterparts quickly. The two guys are actually on either side of her. Making that three of them in total Bill realizes and they’re all talking and exchanging looks with one another too quickly for any of the Losers to get a word in edgewise. He can feel the Losers try and inch closer together as much as they can without drawing too much attention to themselves in the process. Not like it would help as they’re clearly the main focus and point of contention for the three.

“Nope.” The curly haired one apparently called Dustin mutters. “They don’t look familiar at all…” It makes his frown deepen on his young face while the one that had called out to them first just takes a menacing step forward, fists already formed.

“Look, wait! This is a misunderstanding.” Good old Ben. He’s the first to find his voice in a way that is helpful and Bill is eternally grateful to him.

“Y-yeah. We-w-we’re here for Richie.” Bill is finally able to get the words out, trying to step in front of his group to protect them.

“Richie?!” That seems to startle the three of them although the redhead suddenly looks like the world makes sense again. “Wait a minute.” Her light blue-green eyes look over each of them in turn and Bill has the distinct feeling of being sized up.

“What is it Mad Max?” Dustin asks eyes glancing at her.

“Are you guys the Losers?! Like Richie’s Losers?”

“What? What are you talking about, Max?” The guy who’s been looking menacing suddenly falters and is looking between them and her in a dubious manner.

“The Losers…” The so-called Dustin mutters as he slaps his hand to his forehead. “Of course, totally obvious. _Not_… come on Max_ine_. They’re probably just assholes looking for a thrill, a big adventure after having read the coverage about the kidnapping. Jerks.”

“Do not _even_ Henderson…”

“It is us… I mean, we are the Losers. And we are here for Richie but not because we want a thrill or, or an adventure.” Stanley cries out now, hands up. “We’re most definitely not creeps and we have no idea who Nancy is.” There’s a slight tone of offended disgust at the idea that they’ve been taken to be peeping Toms.

“See!” Max, Mad Max, Maxine or whatever the hell her name is, says with a glare thrown at Dustin.

“Oh come on! Likely story. How do we know you are who you say you are? I mean, prove to us that you know Richie…”

“Why should we?!” Eddie counters, fear suddenly gone and looking angry. “I mean, who the fuck are you? And what are you all doing here?”

“Excuse you?”

“URGH! Boys!” The redhead yells and gets in between the two groups. “Enough already! We’ll take turns, okay?” And without looking or waiting for a response, she starts. “We’re at the Wheeler’s house because we’re friends with Mike and Richie and we were helping watch Holly, their little cousin while Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler went to the police station. I’m Max. This is Lucas and Dustin. We’ve known Richie since he got here and he told me about the Losers…tell me, what’s the best way of shutting him up?”

“…beep, beep Richie…” Eddie whispers.

“Eds, right?” She points to him and then scans the rest of the group and starts pointing them out, one by one. “Mike, Ben…Stanley… leaving you to be… Billiam.”

… 

They bring the Losers to the cabin to _really_ talk. Lucas doesn’t like the idea and makes it clear. However, with Max and Dustin logically arguing how it may be their best option right now, he simply lets the issue drop with a shake of his head. It’s clear that Lucas is still suspicious of them and Dustin gets that, he does. He’s still suspicious of them too but… he’s also desperate. He’ll take whatever he can at this moment to get their search moving back in a more hopeful and productive direction. Not that they don’t already have a plan in the works but still. If these guys can help, they need it. He doesn’t want a repeat of their first search that had led them to finding a very dead Dr. Winterwell and his equally dead family.

Dustin radios ahead a warning that they’re bringing strangers to the mix once the Wheelers come back and he prepares to make a convincing argument as to why but El’s response doesn’t allow for it. It’s just a whispered okay and then it goes to static and Dustin bites the inside of his cheek hard until all he can taste is blood. He’s scared shitless for Richie and Mike. He’s worried about everyone else handling the loss, especially El. And Mike’s family. And Will. And… He closes his eyes briefly and gives another wordless prayer that the nightmare ends soon.

The group remains silent when they make their way to the cabin an hour later, careful to not leave any marks that could be followed. They hope anyway. Lucas is trailing behind using his dad’s military training to ensure it and no one questions him.

Max is the one who’s leading the pack and she’s the one who does the secret knock that causes the door to swing wide open. If the Losers are surprised to find no one behind the door, they don’t say anything. They simply all file in and blink at the relative darkness.

Deeper within the house, Will struggles to his feet, gently moving El from his shoulder to lay her back down onto the couch. As he makes his way over to them, he flicks on a light as he moves from what passes for the living room to the entrance.

“Hey… so what’s going on?” He asks, eyes wide as he takes in the new guys suddenly cramping the small house.

“We found help.” Max mutters. “And they’ve known Richie since he was…” She makes a motion to below her knees. “Figured maybe they’d be able to fill in some gaps regarding his childhood and one Went Tozier.”

“…the Losers?” Will asks, tone curious but also doubtful as he scans the group again.

“B-b-bill.” Bill throws out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Will…” The rest of the introductions happen as they move closer to the couch. El remains quiet and passive but Max frowns as she notices the hints of blood having been scrubbed off just below her nose. She decidedly plonks her ass down next to the girl, shoving into her and taking her hand, giving it a hard squeeze. El gives her a weak little smile before squeezing back.

The rest take that as their cue to find spots to sit down. Will, ever used to playing host when Mike hadn’t been able to for their own group, is the one who gathers chairs and forms them in a loose circle around the couch. Max watches the other boys carefully, not really acknowledging the way that Lucas makes his appearance and sits on the arm of the couch, his hip nestling right next to her head. Dustin takes up Will’s original spot right on El’s other side.

It’s interesting, Max thinks, as she watches the Losers. There’s a parallel between them and her own boys that she can’t deny. It makes her remember the research that Dustin had completed what feels like was years ago on twins. Even separated, they’ll live somewhat similar lives. Pick similar friends… with the only difference being the roles the brothers had played in their respective groups. Richie the clown and Mike the leader. Obviously.

It’s so odd to see people she’d only heard in stories come to life before her eyes. It’s too bad Bev, Richie’s so called _other half_, isn’t here. It would have been nice to have another girl in the mix.

Eddie is wrinkling his nose as he tries not to make it obvious that he’s inspecting the cleanliness of the chair he’s been told he can sit on. He can’t help it. His throat is tight with anxiety and the amount of _dust_ in this _shack_ canNOT be healthy. Still, at a look from Bill, he ends up sitting and biting down on the strong need to take one of the baby wipes from his backpack and clean the space that’s now touching his ass.

His shorts are only a thin protection from the masses of germs that have to be growing here. A little shudder runs through him and he tries to focus on his breath and counting backwards from 100 to get rid of the thoughts about how many germs he already had on him from the fucking bus ride and the current ones from this chair that are now in contact with his clothes and his skin and…

“So…” Bill clears his throat once Will settles on the ground close to El’s feet.

“What’s actually happening? With the search? Did any ransom calls get made?” Eddie jumps in. Because grit his teeth and sit down he can do, but he can’t take listening and waiting through Bill’s stuttering sentences to get to the actual business. There are some things that just need to be moved along. He ignores the side glare that he can see Stanley throw his way.

“…no. No ransom calls.” Lucas is the one who answers, arms crossed tightly in front of him. “The investigation is still active but they don’t really have much to go on.”

“…no leads?” Ben asks, voice slightly incredulous yet polite all the same. “Was Hawkins Lab a dead end?”

The Party members all stiffen at the name and Lucas looks more menacing and thunderous at the same time where he’s perched like the human equivalent of a bird of prey.

“…what?” Dustin just looks shocked. “What the hell do you all know about Hawkins Lab?”

“Well, it’s not exactly top secret.” Ben mutters, ducking his head to hide his reddened chubby cheeks. “Hawkins has only made the headlines in the news a couple of times. Each time, it’s been due to that lab…” He’s opening his backpack and grabbing thick folders that seem to be bursting at the seams. “… I think anyway. It wasn’t really clear if they were ever linked to that Byer’s kid’s disappearance.”

If the Party members had stiffened before, it pales in comparison to how statue-like they are now. Each of them carefully not looking at one another.

“…What did I say?” Ben asks.

Will gives a little sigh before giving them a slight wave. “Maybe I should have introduced myself with my first and last name. I’m Will Byers. And yeah…” The rest is shared barely over a whisper even though he _knows_ that this place isn’t bugged. “Hawkins Lab _definitely_ played a role in what happened to me.”

(_The both times goes unsaid because these guys may be Richie’s Losers but Will _really_ doesn’t want to take the trip back down this particular memory lane._)

…

The two groups continue to talk, each sharing their own research about Hawkins, Hawkins Lab, and Richie. The Losers don’t have too much to say on Went Tozier besides that he is (_was?_) an orthodontist that had been more absent than present in Richie’s life back in Derry. They confirm that he’s been missing since he’s wife apparent suicide though and that as far as they’re aware the Derry Law Enforcement has dropped the investigation. He’s simply one more missing person added to a very extended list of missing people the town has. It seems like the infuriating man will continue to be a dead end and his topic is dropped rather quickly.

Both the Party and the Losers agree about Hawkins Lab needing to be investigated on a deeper level and start forming a plan (_really adding to the one that had already been in development but the Losers don’t need to be told about that_). Neither group is aware of how much both are leaving unsaid.

The Losers don’t mention _It_ and all that they’ve survived together already. It doesn’t seem like its needed or that it would be helpful in any way. Especially because there’s nothing currently going on that seems to point to a similar creature being the cause behind Richie’s disappearance. And because it’s clear to them at least that Richie may have told the group about the Losers but not about _It._

The Party keeps out the fact that El has powers and that her mother was part of the study. It’s just safer this way. They do however share some of Will’s experience and that Richie and Mike’s mother was part of the study. It’s this little fact that is causing them to believe more than anything else that the shut down Lab is involved somehow, someway.

“…so when is … you said Kali?” At a nod, Mike continues his original question. “…getting here?”

The Party members all look to El who tilts her head. It would appear to anyone who doesn’t know the girl that she’s simply considering the question. In reality, she’s probing her surrounding, seeing if her sister is close enough now to feel without getting pulled into the Void. She’s not and El sighs before looking at her hands.

“Either tonight or tomorrow.”

“That’s not bad if it’s tomorrow…” Ben mutters. “It gives us time to see if we can find the building plans for the place. That should be information made accessible to the public and the library or town hall should have those…” Dustin nods, hands playing with his hat carefully.

“We actually have that covered.” He mutters.

“You do?” Ben asks surprised.

“Yeah,” Lucas jumps in. “It was our next plan of action… to scope the place out after following up on the whole… Tozier lead.” He’s already shared how Hopper had found Dr. Evans and her family killed as well. Ms. Sandy is still missing but it seems that her entire identity was a lie anyway. It should have struck them before how convenient it was that their school suddenly had a counselor following Will’s first disappearance. In any case, it doesn’t do them any good to dwell on that particular fact. The Party is letting Hopper continue investigating her. They know they wouldn’t have the means to get very far trying to figure out her actual identity.

“We made copies of the blue print and we’ve narrowed it down to a couple ways to get not only onto the grounds but also into the building itself.” Lucas pauses before saying quietly. “We should figure out who should come and who should stay back. All of us going in just doesn’t make any sense and could be a bigger liability.”

El’s eyes flash dangerously then but she stays mute. The Party has already voted her OUT of coming which is part of the reason Kali is even on her way to Hawkins. Because if El can’t go then at least Kali can and will provide them with some sort of powerful back up. She doesn’t like the plan and will most likely never like the plan but it is what it is at this point. Max can feel the tension growing in the other girl and simply gives her hand another big squeeze.

“K-Kali is a must with her previous history of the b-b-building.” Bill starts, voice confident. He misses Dustin and Lucas sharing a glance at the way the teen is stepping into this leadership role for both groups without really anyone’s say so. It’s clear he is the leader in his group and it makes their own Mike’s absence that much stronger. It also irritates the hell out of Lucas who’s had to swallow down already multiple objections simply because he doesn’t like the feeling of having someone take over. What’s been harder to deal with is that Bill never says anything wrong or bad and never words things like an ultimatum. It’s just… Lucas shakes his head and tries to let the irritation go. There are bigger things at stake here. “Lucas, how many p-p-people would you suggest as a good number for the-the-the infiltration team?”

The question takes him off guard but he responds anyway. It makes him wonder though if maybe Bill is more aware of how he’s coming off and how it’s impacting the Party members. “Originally, we were thinking of 3, maybe 4 if Kali wanted someone from her group to come with and at least 2 of us staying behind. We have supercomms that we’d keep in contact with.”

Bill nods at that like it’s a good plan. “That makes sense…”

“Who was in the original team…?” Stan asks, arms still tight across his chest.

“Lucas and Steve.” Dustin steps into answer. “Not that we’d informed Steve of that just yet but he’s cool. We know he’d step in and do it. If not, Max. El, Will, and I were planning on being able to provide instructions about the blue plan from here… as well as be able to call 911 right away if it all went to shit. We do have a direct line to the Chief of Police after all.”

“Who’s Steve now?” Eddie asks. There have been too many names thrown in and it’s hard to keep track of everyone.

“Mike’s sister, I guess really older cousin’s ex boyfriend. He’s handy with a bat.” The answer is more confusing but Eddie can only nod and figure that it’ll make sense at some point. Or not. He doesn’t actually care if it brings Richie back. And if it gets him out of this fucking dusty cabin faster.

“Okay…” Bill nods. “And I, I’d like to go in too, if that’s okay.” He volunteers.

“Same here.” Mike offers quietly. “I may not hold a candle to Richie’s bat swinging… or your Steve’s… but…I can fight.”

“So, Lucas, Steve, Kali, Bill, and Mike.” Dustin ticks the names off on his fingers. “And maybe one of Kali’s buddies. Sounds like the search party has been decided.”

“And the rest of us will stay here.” Stan says softly, nodding to himself. One long pale finger has been unconsciously rubbing his scarred cheek. He doesn’t like that they’ll be split up but he also can’t deny that there’s some relief at not having to go into the shut down lab. He notices that Bill is watching him now and he drops his hands despite the still nervous energy that makes them want to move and simply do something. Anything. “I…” He starts. “I realize that in our haste to get here and search for Richie, we forgot to think of something.” He admits. Now all of them are staring at him. “We don’t have anywhere to stay tonight.”

“Oh.” It’s Will’s voice that breaks the silence that suddenly descended at Stan’s observation. “Well, I guess I can ask mom if she’s okay having all of you over. If not…” He trails off, looking at the remainder of the Party members. “…I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Tbc... 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike and Richie are still learning how to cope with their new situation while Kali and her gang arrives to join the search for the missing twins.

Chapter 8 

Day 11

Mike and Richie are sitting across one another, Brian sitting just behind Mike so he can look over his shoulder. Dr. Brenner’s last visit had determined that they were still much too weak to have their ESP tested by distance. Brian had agreed with a ducked head and now here they are.

Mike is sweating, the hospital shirt sticking uncomfortably against his skin. He’s looking at cards. He supposes it’s the cards that Richie had been given all the previous times. But who knows. Maybe they’re not. He has a feeling that Brian had skipped some steps in their testing and had tried to do things a bit faster than was normal. Dr. Brenner had said something about the current cards being called Zener cards or something. He’d sat with them, showing both of them the strange cards with the various simple symbols printed on their flat shiny surfaces and explained how the test would work.

The one facing Mike currently is a simple circle. He’s been staring at it for minutes now so long and so hard that he feels the way his eyebrows are pinched together. The muscles there are sore from the tension.

He feels warm liquid gather under his nose and his head is pounding. It’s not his first nosebleed here. He’s lost count of how many he’s had. The first time, Brian had seemed excited. He’d leaned in and started writing down something very rapidly on his clipboard.

Mike had wanted to tell him to fuck off and to have a tissue or _something_ please and thank you, bastard. But he’d known better than to bother asking. He’d simply used his arm to wipe at the blood until it had finally stopped dripping.

Richie’s eyes are glazed and Mike knows what the looks mean. He’s more worried about Richie’s health here than he is about his own. Richie seems way more reactive to whatever they’re being given and has spent hours screaming and writhing where he sits or lay. Mike’s not sure what scares him the most – when he can understand what Richie’s yelling about or when it’s complete gibberish.

For Mike, although it’s never a fun experience, it… it well… he at least doesn’t remember screaming or have memories of _melting_. It’s more like everything is louder and clearer and just like all his senses come alive in this brilliant explosion. It’s not scary. It’s not always beautiful. It just is. He has come to learn that he just has to ride the wave out and the part that tends to bug him the most is always the way his heart aches at having been racing for so damned long and how parched and feverish he feels.

But they haven’t been injected for awhile (_maybe a day?_) now and though Mike still feels dehydrated and slightly feverish, he no longer feels like he’s drugged. He’s not sure it’s out of Richie’s system as much as it’s out of his.

A slight clearing of a throat makes him drag his eyes back to the card. He tries to concentrate on the symbol and the symbol only but he can’t help his worry for Richie as it continues to worm it’s way back in every thought he has. They’re going to die in here if he doesn’t manage to get them out. Richie is going to die because whatever they’re giving him…

Richie sits upright, the fog in his eyes suddenly clearing.

“I’m not going to fucking die okay? We promised. Never letting each other go.” The words are harsh and slightly slurred but it’s him. Mike blinks at his twin in surprise though and feels his mouth fall open. “You’re giving me a headache. Stop it with the mother henning. And I don’t care about the fucking circle.”

“…Shit…” Mike breathes, dropping the card as if it burns him. Behind him, he hears Brian start writing the fuck out of his clipboard.

…

Kali steps out of the car and stretches briefly. Funshine is out of the car and by her side in an instant, his strong presence a comfort to her. She doesn’t like being out here in the boonies so close to the lab that had created the monster that she is now. Dottie and Axel leave the car soon after, leaving only Mick inside. She knows her friend doesn’t like the situation either. None of them do. They’d all been against her choice of coming here reminding her several times over that Jane had left _them._ Her choice in leaving meant they didn’t owe her shit.

Yet here she is.

And here they are. They followed her anyway. They wanted to be there to protect her when the inevitable trap closed in on her. And Mick was hesitating in their stolen car because she was ready to turn the gas back on and drive them all away and back to the city’s dirty protection.

Kali sighs and looks at the house that’s in front of them. It’s a typical suburban home with some wear and tear and some crap in the backyard that really should have been carried off to the nearest dumpsite. It makes her skin crawl, the normalcy of it all.

She takes a step forward before Axel gets the chance to open his big mouth and complain once again about this stupid decision and how its going to bite them all in the ass. She hears it as he snaps his mouth shut, opportunity lost. The front door opens before she reaches it and Jane comes out.

Her younger sister from another mother looks different than she’d last seen her. She’s taller for one but paler and exhausted looking. Her hair is down to her shoulders now and less curly. It hangs in dull waves, thick and clearly not brushed. She is barefooted.

“Kali…” He voice is still as soft as it’d been though when they had first been reunited and Kali blinks, surprised at the strong hold she suddenly finds herself in. “You’re really here. Thank you. Thank you.” There’s warm wetness that’s spilling onto Kali’s shoulder and she finds herself awkwardly wrapping her own arms around the slighter girl.

“Well you called, didn’t you little sister? Of course, I’m here.” She says instead of asking why? And what happened? Where are all these friends you claimed you needed to save and that would protect you in return?

The door opens again and other teens start to slowly creep out onto the front porch watching the scene play out. Kali counts them, knows that the rest of her gang are counting them too. Nine that look to be about the same age as Jane while three stand behind the larger group, looking just slightly older. She frowns at them and slowly pulls away from Jane.

“Care to introduce and explain Jane?”

…

“I should be going in.” Nancy says again, frustrated that Mike’s friends and apparently Richie’s friends who had come all the way from fucking Derry, Maine have created this elaborate plan without letting anyone else know until just now. It’s a dangerous plan. A stupid plan. And she knows that instead of arguing to be allowed to go with them, she should be calling Hopper instead.

Kali shoots her a dead look behind her kohl-smudged eyes. It’s neither promising nor threatening. Simply unimpressed.

“None of you should be going in. This is a stupid plan, Jane.”

“I need to find them.” Jane states, glaring at her sister. “Please.”

“No. If it’s true that Hawkins Lab has them, you’re all better off leaving this thing alone.” Kali continues, voice strong and uncompromising. “You should know better.” This is targeting Jane alone. “I gave you a chance to come with me…with us… to hunt these men down. You wanted a normal life. You came back here.”

Jane doesn’t drop her eyes from Kali’s. “They needed my help.” She simply states. “I was needed here.”

“And look where it’s gotten you…” Kali can’t help but observe, knowing that her words will hurt. She has always been good at hurting. Even without her powers.

“This isn’t her fault.” Will snaps causing Kali to look away from her little sister briefly. Though it will never show, there is surprise inside her at the second smallest of the boys challenging her in this way. “If you don’t want to help, you don’t have to. But we’re doing this and we’re doing this tonight. Nancy can take your place.”

Kali frowns at him, the urge to throw at this kid his worst fears pulsing along with her blood flowing throughout her body. She closes her hands in fists and waits the urge out.

“Oh no need…” Funshine speaks up and Kali can’t help but throw him a look at having him speak for her. “After all, we may finally find that elusive Dr. Brenner.” He’s actually speaking to her and not for her. His words a calming yet chiding message directly targeting her. There’s an opportunity here that shouldn’t be dismissed.

The Party members all look confused. The Losers have been lost since Kali and her gang have arrived and have remained for the most part quiet; speaking with looks alone amongst themselves.

“Dr. Brenner is dead.” Lucas says after clearing his throat. Kali spares him a look before focusing back on Jane.

“No. He’s not…Dear old Papa would never die so easily on us, right Jane?” The fear that sparks in Jane’s eyes doesn’t actually cause her pleasure. But there is some sort of emotion that it fuels in her. She simply sighs and stretches. “So tonight we all hunt the bastard down. Lovely.” She glances over the bunch again and hides an internal eye roll. Perhaps she and Funshine will find a way to lose them all before they get inside the building. And perhaps, she’ll also stumble over a basket of kittens and puppies at the end of a fucking rainbow.

God fuck this was going to be a shit show of epic proportions.

“Do any of you even know how to shoot a gun?” She asks, tone dry and already sure of the answer.

“I do.” Nancy snaps. “Which is why I should be going in. More so than Steve and his fucking baseball bat anyway.” That is surprising. The little preppy white girl doesn’t look like she could or would willingly do anything that could cause her to break a nail. Well hot damn, maybe she will end up finding that basketful of cuteness on this stupid journey after all.

And it is (_only slightly_) amusing watching the group bicker about the utter coolness of this Steve’s bat and the way he’s taken on a demodog. Whatever the fuck that is.

A/N - You all are wonderful and I'm continually overwhelmed by the kudos, the comments, the wonderful ideas and guesses as to what is coming next that you share with me. You all mean the world to me and I hope that the story continues to be one that you all enjoy. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the twins continues...

Chapter 9

Day 12, 13, 14, 15

It is oppressingly stuffy in the cabin. There are too many people filling the space and El wishes once again that everyone would just leave already. That she could be left alone so she could do what she feels deep inside of her that she _needs_ to do.

She hates these four walls. She hates the waiting. She hates how she’s been put into a cage for her own good. Her own protection.

She only has the static of the supercomm in Dustin’s hand and periodic updates provided to her by Lucas breaking the grating sound. Everyone who’s been told to stay behind is quiet, anxiously holding their breath and waiting for those updates.

Well, Dustin isn’t quiet and neither is Ben. The two are bent over the maps of the building telling those who are now successfully in the closed Hawkins Lab where to turn and which staircase to take.

El takes a deep breath and Will glances at her briefly before his large brown eyes turn back to watching the supercomm.

They need this trip to be successful.

…

Kali’s face is expressionless as she walks down the hall, Funshine at her side. This mission is a waste of time and a dangerous venture at that. She doesn’t buy that this lab is closed. She doesn’t trust that the cameras – despite their lights being off – aren’t actually recording their every move and that the recordings won’t be fed directly into the hands of the very people that they are hunting. The hunters becoming hunted. Not exactly how she wants to go…

What she does trust is Jane’s assessment that Dr. Brenner is not in these walls. She does trust Jane saying that the place is empty. Or was when she walked through them in the Void just hours before. But only she knows that as the sisters had ended up meeting away from everyone else. Jane is still resisting the thought that Papa is indeed alive but that was a fight for another day. It doesn’t change the fact that Kali trusts Jane. Trusts in her powers at the very least. And from what she gathered from her little sister’s walk in the Void is that this was pointless. Dangerous but pointless. They wouldn’t find the missing boys here.

Still, she’s walking through these halls because despite their _father_ not being a resident in this hellhole, perhaps he’s left them a calling card. A clue that would finally lead her to where he is.

She’s also here because it had been clear to her that these kids, these naïve clueless babies, were going to go ahead with their crazy plan no matter the cost. And that she couldn’t live with. A monster she may be but not a completely heartless one. Not yet anyway.

Axel had spent quite some time last night in their beat up van pointing out all the ways that she was _clearly_ growing soft. And not only soft but _stupid_ too. She hadn’t had any energy left in her to fight him on these points. She had finally shut him up when it was clear that his words were impacting the rest of the gang by letting him see the worst of the world’s arachnids.

Well, he’d shut up after yelling and rolling out of the van. But at least, it had ended his one sided monologue.

The crackle of the supercomm causes her to pause. They really don’t need that stupid device. It doesn’t mater how long it’s been since she’s run away from here; she still remembers each nook and cranny. There are some things that you simply can’t forget. Ever.

“Anything?” Dustin’s voice is warbled and worried. The kid’s dimples had been awfully charming and annoying at the same time leaving her with the itch to either pinch the cheeks or smush them together. Thank fuck for impulse control.

“No, we’re still in the same hallway. We’re coming close to the elevator you’d mentioned…over.”

…

It becomes clear to them that they will need several days to do a thorough search of the building. It’s disappointing but it’s true and at least it keeps them all occupied and working towards the same goal.

Still, it hurts all the same to come back to the cabin empty handed and see El’s eyes well up with frustrated tears and see the way Eddie suddenly leaves, only to come back hours later with still wet cheeks.

…

It’s been three fucking long days already of searching the empty building and they’re about to start their fourth one. Eddie’s fragile nerves are this close to snapping outright. He knows it. He’s not as strong or as brave as the others think he is. He can feel it in the way his fingers are trembling as he tries to pass a brush through his hair, in the way his lungs tighten, in the way his throat is already closing up at the mere thought of what the day is going to look like and he’s left wheezing in apprehension as he finally decides that his hair is brushed enough, letting the brush fall back onto the counter with a loud clatter. He moves to the next task at hand and pulls on a clean t-shirt over his head. His hands blindly feel around in his pack that he’d brought with him into the bathroom for his inhaler and when it grips the container, it only brings a mild feeling of relief.

He’s going to go through all of the inhalers that he’s brought with him if he has to deal with another long day of being stuck in that dusty, microbe filled cabin. He’s going to go outright crazy. He can’t do it again. He just can’t.

Eddie takes a long puff from his inhaler before nodding to himself. He has to talk to someone. He has to get someone on his side. To see that they can’t all just keep doing what they have been doing. It’s madness. The very definition of insanity. He slowly puts his inhaler back in his fanny pack, making sure to cinch the small pack securely around his waist before leaving the bathroom. He nods to Mike’s unspoken question that yeah, he’s done. The bathroom is all his to use.

Eddie scans the living room, eyes briefly pausing on each of his friends still there and reviewing his options. All of them will be sympathetic to his feelings; he knows this. But not all of them will go beyond feeling sympathetic and actually agree with him. It’s what makes his eyes move quickly from Bill. He knows his friend is too focused on the mission at hand to discuss another plan right now. He also knows from experience that Bill’s radiating confidence will just make him feel like a piece of shit, make him look down and away from that steady gaze and just… no. Bill isn’t an option.

Eddie is quick to come to the conclusion that Ben isn’t an option either. The larger boy is much too kind and much too polite to point out any possible flaws in Eddie’s thought patterns and plan. But he’s also incredibly stubborn. Eddie knows that Ben still has a lot of faith in their original plan and is becoming quite close to Dustin, the curly haired boy with a penchant for maps and curiosity voyages. He’s heard them continue talking and planning out which parts to survey next over their supercomms during late hours of the night, despite everyone agreeing that sleep was really in order. And well, to be completely honest, Eddie’s not sure he could handle Ben’s deep knowing and sympathetic gaze without losing his shit right then and there.

His eyes move away from him and land on Stanley. Stanley who’s slowly but methodically running his hands through his curls, gaze slightly unfocused. Eddie continues to watch as his friend pins his kippah in place, despite the miles and miles between him and his father. Eddie finds himself walking towards him, only pausing because of his startle response to the front door of the Byers' home being slammed open by some of the Party members coming to pick them up. Stanley’s eyes catch his as Eddie tries to calm his suddenly pounding heart down. There must be some_thing_ on his face that is communicating something to Stanley because both eyebrows start to rise and Stanley’s mouth opens slightly but Eddie shakes his head.

Not now.

Not here.

But soon.

It makes Stanley’s frown grow but he nods after a moment and gets up in one smooth motion, long pale hands already moving to brush out the non-existent wrinkles from his clothes. This is something that Eddie can appreciate and he feels the tightness around his lungs and throat lessen slightly.

Stanley is the right choice. He’ll make his friend understand. He will. He has to.

…

They arrive at the cabin like they always do and are greeted simply by El leaning against the open doorframe. The girl stays wordless and is seemingly paler than she had been the day before, if that was even possible. She gives Eddie the heebie jeebies and he finds himself reaching for Stanley’s wrist and squeezing it fiercely, pulling at his friend to stop before they even get near the front door. His friend gives a little jerk of surprise at being stopped in such a manner and Mike catches the movement, giving both of them a little look.

“Everything ok?” He asks. Eddie gives the question a shrug as an initial answer.

“I just…” He starts and then pushes himself to continue. There’s no way he could have gotten away with having a conversation unnoticed. Might as well just move past this. “… wanted to talk to Stanley about something.” He sees from the corner of his eyes more of the group pause to look at them and feels his cheeks start to heat up.

“…okay…” Mike responds, tone calm and gentle as always. “We’ll be inside if you need us.” It’s the same tone but it’s final in some way and leads everyone to continue moving inside the house with no space to question or argue. Eddie will have to thank Mike later if he remembers.

He waits until the door closes before letting Stanley’s wrist go loose from the hold and then it’s like a dam that’s breaking as a torrent of hissed words start spilling out of his mouth.

Max is running late this morning and her sides hurt at how quickly she’s running through the forest. She should have taken Lucas up on his offer to pick her up. She knows she should have. But she hasn’t really liked the look in Billy’s eyes the last time Lucas had come to pick her up. Yeah, he’s left them alone for the most part since she’d threatened him but… she knows how quickly memories fade or lose their bite. And Billy, well, she hadn’t wanted to test the situation. The last thing they need on top of Mike and Richie being missing is her stepbrother attacking Lucas just because he _could_.

She also hadn’t wanted Lucas to be delayed in continuing the search. She knew that it would be faster for him to just go straight to the lab versus having to pick her up and drop her back at the cabin before heading to the lab. And they really didn’t have time to waste. The search was already taking so much longer than they’d initially anticipated.

She stumbles to a halt as she hears voices talking rapidly outside of the cabin. That was strange to put it mildly. They always take such care to not be seen, to not be heard or noticed that they rarely ever stay outside of the cabin… who in the world…? It makes a bit more sense when she realizes that it’s two of the Losers.

“Eddie,” Stanley tries to say but is cut off.

“No, don’t tell me to calm down! I’m serious Stanley! We’re wasting time just sitting there and waiting while the others search that abandoned lab. We could be doing something else in the mean time… like what about searching Richie’s room? Or other areas that he used to hang out at…We could do that! We know him better than they do. Maybe he’s left us a sign or a clue that they wouldn’t even know to make sense of…” The smaller of the two boys is talking so rapidly that Max can only barely understand all that he’s saying. His friend looks like he’s trying to get a word in edgewise, waiting for Eddie to take a breath. “Please don’t make me go in there and just wait again. Please… I can’t… I won’t. I’ll do it alone if I have to but I can’t go back in there. Have you seen her? There’s something wrong with her… nosebleeds and so pale and rarely ever saying a fucking word. What if she’s sick? What if it’s contagious? I can’t breathe in there…I can’t breathe!”

The flow of words goes from rapid to panicky and high pitched. Stanley’s eyes go wide before he snaps into motion, hands moving towards his friend’s stomach and very rapidly unzipping and getting something from his fanny pack.

“Jesus Eddie,” Stanley mutters, pulling the inhaler and bringing it to Eddie’s mouth. “It’s going to be okay…Just fucking breath, okay? Please?”

The smaller of the two doesn’t answer, just holding onto his inhaler and his friend’s hands who are also still holding onto the inhaler as well like they’re a life line. And Max can’t help but notice the tear tracks that are making their way down his cheeks.

She feels stuck where she is. An unintentional witness to the scene and definitely eavesdropping whether she wants to or not. Max internally curses and thinks about her possible options before shaking her head. She steps forward and clears her throat making both of them jump.

“Shit!” She hears one of them yelp but at the moment, she can’t really identify who and really, it doesn’t matter that much. Max gives them what she hopes is an apologetic expression.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was running late.” She motions behind her as if that would explain why she was running late before dropping her hand beside her helplessly. It really doesn’t explain shit and she knows it. “El’s not sick you know.” She starts quietly, averting her eyes from Eddie’s reddening face as he wipes away at his cheeks. “But I get that it’s hard to be in there, just waiting.” Max offers, hands going to rest into her pockets. “I think… I think we do know Richie pretty well but… I’d rather be sure we did _everything_ and not miss anything, you know? So if it helps, I can bring you to the Wheeler household and you can search their room too. Just…” She hesitates, looking at the cabin’s closed door. “Just let me tell the others.”

…

It’s strange seeing the Wheeler house again, Eddie thinks. He can’t help but compare it to Richie’s home back in Derry. He can’t help but try and guess at which window is Richie’s room and see if there’s anyway that his lanky friend would climb to and from that just like he did in Derry. As if he’d had an allergy to using the front door. But there’s nothing outwardly indicating Richie’s room and so Eddie’s eyes drop to the welcome mat as he lets Max ring the doorbell. Stanley stays close, quiet. He’s barely spoken really since Max had caught them and offered to go with them. He hadn’t really said much even before then. But Eddie knows that this is partly due to Eddie not providing him an opening to do so.

It doesn’t take long for the door to open and reveal a woman that Eddie knows intellectually has got to be Richie’s aunt. Nancy looks like her. She’s pale, dark circles under her eyes that are only somewhat concealed by an excellent make up job. There’s a young child next to her who stays mute.

“Hi Mrs. Wheeler,” Max starts and Eddie tunes her out as the redhead goes about introducing them. He goes on complete automatic as Mrs. Wheeler welcomes them in and hugs him and Stanley hard. He can feel her grief and fear in the simple greeting and it’s a bit too much for him.

Maybe the dusty cabin was the better choice after all.

Richie’s absence is just as present here as it was there.

But at least he didn’t have to deal with an adult’s hopelessness straight on. He would have simply been surrounded by his friends’ continued blind hope and frenetic energy to persevere.

He follows Max, a buzzing in his ear keeping him from hearing and comprehending any of the words that are being exchanged around him. Stanley isn’t coming with them though and for a moment, it makes him pause. But Stanley’s eyes catch his and he can see the message clear as day. Keep going. I’ll be here. So he turns away from Stanley, and does exactly that.

…

There’s a part of Stanley that wishes that he could have left Eddie in Max’s capable hands. There’s something about the redhead and her no-nonsense, cut the bullshit crap that he admires. He knows with some certainty that she would have been able to handle Eddie’s meltdown if he were to have one again with enough kindness but also enough… pragmatism? Was that the word? Either way, she would have been able to handle Eddie. Maybe even better than he can. He shakes his head, hand pushing a stray curl away from his eyes.

He wishes he could have left Eddie to her and stayed in the cabin, surrounded by the static of the supercomm and updates that were no updates at all. The cabin had been filled with tension yes, the kind that made it hard to breathe but at least, it had been hopeful.

The Wheeler household is anything but. His heart _aches_ as he follows Mrs. Wheeler into the kitchen. He’s experienced this atmosphere before in Bill’s home, right after Georgie’s disappearance. He remembers like it was yesterday the way Bill’s mom had continued holding onto hope in such a desperate way while Bill’s dad became angrier and angrier, hope dwindling to nothing. It’s a suffocating atmosphere. A heavy one. And he can see its impact on those petite shoulders, the brittle polite smile, and the way Mrs. Wheeler’s eyes keep going back to the silent phone on the wall while she still tries to act like she has everything under control.

He can also see it in the way the little girl keeps a hold of her mother’s hand, eyes wide and bleak. As if they’ve suddenly aged by years due to having to face the world’s inherent darkness.

He can’t leave them alone in the silent kitchen.

Stanley gently takes the coffee pot from the woman’s trembling hands and takes over pouring two mugs full of the dark bitter liquid. He moves as if he’s known this kitchen and is comfortable in it, guessing at where everything is. He goes and finds milk and pours the little girl a mug of it since she’s too young to have coffee. And as he does so, he finds himself talking in gentle tones on automatic, kneeling on the ground so that he’s eye to eye with the little girl instead of looking down on her.

Georgie had been older when he’d disappeared. But Stanley can’t get him out of his head and can’t help but see something of Georgie in the little girl in front of him. He can’t help but wonder what Richie’s reaction would have been at meeting her for the first time and realizing that he would have a younger “sibling” again. Because yes Georgie had been Bill’s little brother by blood, but he’d been the Loser’s baby brother in spirit.

He doesn’t really know what he’s saying to mother and daughter. Just knows vaguely that he’s sharing stories of Richie, how they met, and how he’s Stanley’s best friend. He’s stringing words into sentences in order to share about the different antics that Richie’s always pulled and somehow survived in hopes that somehow, despite it being painful, it brings some comfort too.

It’s hours later that Stanley, Eddie and Max make their way out of the Wheeler household and towards the Byers' home. Stanley’s throat is dry and hurting but he still manages to force the next words out with a vehemence that makes Eddie jump and not question them and Max’s eyes widen in confusion.

“Don’t mention Holly to Bill. It’ll kill him.” Especially if they fail at finding Richie and Mike and healing the family from the current ordeal. But that goes unsaid.

…

Somewhere else, miles away and ignorant of what the Party, the Losers, and Kali’s gang are doing, Mike is for once the one laying down with his head in his brother’s lap. His head is pounding and it’s only been a handful of minutes since they’ve been able to stop his latest nosebleed. He feels a bit faint and he can’t quite concentrate on the dirty jokes that Richie keeps filling the air with. But there’s comfort in hearing his twin’s voice that sounds more lucid than it has in days.

If only his head could stop hurting.

He closes his eyes and takes a breath in. Holds it. And then slowly releases it before repeating the process again.

And all the while Richie keeps talking. He’s simply sitting there, holding the majority of his weight on his hands that are placed on the firm mattress just a little behind him. One leg swings a little under Mike’s cheek– a nervous sort of move that is a bit uncomfortable. It makes it hard to fully relax and surrender to the darkness that sleep would bring.

Not that he’s sure he could sleep with the pain.

But he wishes he could.

Tbc…

A/N – Hi everyone! I wanted to take a moment to say thank you, thank you for all the continued support, likes, and comments. I love reading everyone’s comments and messages. I love hearing about your guesses to the twin’s powers or how the story will get resolved (i.e., will the Party and the Losers help the twins escape or will the twins escape on their own) – they’re all fantastic and some of you have gotten such close guesses!!! I also wanted to share a brief personal update. I know at the last chapter update, I’d shared that things had been hectic but I was hopeful that things would be calming down. Unfortunately, things have not calmed down so much. I’ve started physical therapy for chronic back pain and currently, the treatment’s made the pain worse to the point where it’s hard to be sitting for any long amount of time and makes it hard to concentrate/stay focused. As you can imagine, it’s been hard for me to write. It’s even been hard to daydream at times which is incredibly infuriating as daydreaming and writing are two of the ways that I practice self-care… In any case, I wanted to share that my goal is still to try and update the story at least 1x a week but if it takes a bit longer between updates, I hope that you can all understand and be patient with me. Sending you all much love and if you are traveling for Thanksgiving Break, safe travels.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers are realizing that a week is simply not enough time for them to get Richie back and it makes everyone reconsider the original plan for the Search. In the mean time, the tests up their ante for both Richie and Mike...

Chapter 10

Day 17 & 18

When Bill had come up with the plan to go to Hawkins and search for Richie, he’d been sure of one thing – that they would find _something_ to help bring the twins home– even if it wasn’t Richie himself right away. He’d had a deep unshakeable faith that they would help the search and move it forward and that in the end, it would bring Richie home.

Bill hasn’t slept well since forever and he’s not sleeping now, silently sitting and thinking alone. He’s forgotten what it’s like to experience uninterrupted sleep. To not have nightmares that cause his chest to hurt and to want all the lights turned on to chase the darkness away and ensure that there are no glowing eyes watching over him, just waiting to taunt him with his failures and talk him into giving up. (_But even shadows are dangerous and lights cast those and so there’s never any sense of security. The glowing eyes could be found in shadows too after all_). He’s always been able to find the light, to find the hope, and to not give in to despair regardless of the growing darkness in this world.

But right now he feels defeated and he knows everyone around him does too. He’d seen it in their faces just before they turned in for bed. He’d heard it in the silence and the lack of words shared. No updates from the failed mission. No acknowledgments. Simply avoided eye contact and curved backs. Failure is heavy. Defeat even more so.

He knows he should be saying _something_. Something that would rally all of them into holding onto hope. And that he needs to find those words _now_ while everyone sleeps because morning is coming far too quickly and soon everyone will wake and decisions will have to be made. So Bill stays sitting and thinking. Alone.

Yes, their searches in the building have led them to finding _nothing_. And yes, there were still no ransom calls and no other leads that had turned up but…but… but…

Fucking _nothing_. That was the problem. How can he come up with words to build up hope when there’s _nothing?_

Bill’s throat spasms at trying to take a simple breathe in. He can’t see himself trying to form even one word that would be understood in the state that he’s in. Maybe defeated isn’t strong enough of a word for him right now.

Maybe he just feels outright despair.

He can’t believe they’ve come all this way and done all this work and still be empty handed. He can’t believe that he may indeed have to break his promise to Richie. The faded image of that wrinkled missing poster floats in his mind and he shudders.

He can’t.

He just can’t!

And yet he doesn’t know what else to do.

The bus ticket back to Derry burns in his pocket. He knows there’s only hours left before they’re supposed to board and it hurts more than he’s able to acknowledge.

It was never supposed to be this way.

They were always supposed to bring him home.

They were never supposed to fail.

Just like they were never supposed to forget one another…

…

Mike’s head hurts more often than not these days. He also feels lightheaded and cold and his nose is usually stuffed up with dried blood, fresh blood filling in the empty spaces during every test that they’re put through. There’s never enough tissues or sleeves to ever feel like he can wipe and clear out the tender passageways and he’s learned to get used to the chronic dry mouth that comes from breathing through your mouth. It’s unpleasant but everything is right now.

In moments where he’s left alone, he’s had vague wonders of whether it’s like this for El when she uses her powers. These thoughts quickly are followed by him berating himself and everyone in the Party for ever having thought it was cool, for asking her to show off… because if it is like this for her… God, he just hopes it isn’t.

And who the fuck knows, maybe it isn’t. Maybe the fact that she was born with her ESP versus having the potential prodded to life with a cocktail of drugs makes it less painful to use. But whenever he tries to convince himself of this, his mind is quick to remind him that she still gets the nosebleeds and he knows for a fact that using her powers still leaves her exhausted and drained. The thoughts whirl in and out and leave him feeling shitty in a different way.

There’s really only peace in sleep or after the injections. But his injections are slowing down. The dose they hit Richie with is only increasing and it scares the _fuck_ out of Mike. At least right this hour, there won’t be any injections. After all, they’re trying something new today.

Mike wants to stay curled up where he is but Brian is poking him into sitting up. Richie has already been taken away into another room. Mike can only assume that they’ve apparently graduated to the next “level” where their ability to communicate with one another is being tested by how far apart they can be and still “hear” each other. Fucking yay. Still, it’s better than Richie getting an injection and having to be the silent and possibly sober witness.

He’s not sure they’re ready for the upgrade. He knows for sure that Dr. Brenner isn’t happy with them. Not happy with their level of progress. Not that the man has said much the last few times he’s been in to see them. But it’s clear in the tension that lines the man’s face and the darkness that fills his eyes and just… Mike just knows.

Dr. Brenner had been disappointed that so far only Telepathy seemed to be cropping up and only with Mike. He could act as the Sender or the Receiver and the electrodes measuring his brain wave activity would go beserk along with the blood dripping from his nose… along with Brian excitedly writing down God knows what sort of observation he thought was relevant in the moment. (_The man really was useless. Mike still couldn’t understand his role aside of being a glorified babysitter. There were tons of audio and video recording machines that lined every space they’d ever been taken to that had to be so much more valuable and accurate in recording every second and the illegible scrawl that lines the often crumpled pieces of paper still barely attached to a much abused clipboard)_. Richie’s brain wave activity stayed normal. And both Mike and Richie have so far failed the few initial tests that he supposes were measuring for Telekinesis and whatever the rest of the categories were.

And so they were back to merely focusing on the Telepathy. For now…

Mike barely listens to Brian as the man starts to explain what they’ll be doing today, noting simply that he does not have the Zener cards splayed out before him on the table. Nor does he have a sheet with a list of words to look at.

Richie must be playing the part of the Sender and Mike will be the Receiver. He knows the drill. He knows that when Richie is the Sender, he needs to search for him. It was harder in some ways but he’d figured the trick out a couple days ago (_weeks or maybe simply hours ago?_ _The lack of clocks and daylight still bug the hell out of him and leave him confused as to the actual passage of times. He just guesses or arbitrarily chooses the time that makes the most sense to him. It’s the only thing he can do._). He needed to ‘_find_’ Richie in the Void and then he could hear and feel whatever it was Richie was trying to communicate to him. He’d never thought he could go into the Void on his own… part of him aches to test if he can go and find El there but so far, he’s barely able to go in on his own and stay there long enough to get a sense of what’s going on for Richie before being in too much pain that he loses his hold on the Void altogether.

Mike isn’t sure whether he’s supposed to feel his twin’s emotions as well as hear the thoughts or whatever images they’ve asked Richie to visualize when he plays the role of the Receiver but he hasn’t felt like sharing this additional information with Dr. Brenner and his minion. And he hasn’t even shared it with Richie yet. It feels like an additional violation in some ways and half the time, he just wants to forget what he’s heard, seen, and felt (_Like their mother’s eyes. Her lips. Her expression. So haunting. He never wants to hear what she’ll say. He never wants to have Richie hear it)_. But when he’s being honest with himself, it’s Richie’s emotions that make it too painful for him to keep a hold of the Void. It’s too overwhelming. So he just tries to focus merely on the specific information that’s part of the study.

Brian makes a little grunt at the back of his throat and Mike nods as if to say he’s been listening and then goes to close his eyes. Automatically he braces himself as if it’ll help as he starts to focus for his brother. The inky darkness of the Void swallows him up and for a heartbeat or two, he is alone and the silence around him is deafening. The white room and Brian feel very far away when he’s here.

It’s always been strange to feel like he’s standing in water that he cannot feel and that he cannot hear moving around his feet when he walks forward. He stares at the darkness for a moment before forming his brother’s name.

His brother’s lanky shape starts to form slowly before him. But it’s wrong. It is all very and horribly wrong. Because Richie is not crouched above cards or a sheet full of words that he’s repeating to himself over and over again. He’s not even at a table in one of those white box-like rooms.

Instead Richie is strapped to a hospital bed and his back is arched in an arc that looks and feels painful, spine cracking as his wrists and ankles strain to free themselves from the leather binding him still. His twin brother’s mind is yelling incoherently and before Mike can take a step back to let go of the Void before it all hits him, he’s sucked into the shocking pain that is Richie and Mike simply no longer is. 

…

Red.

Floating bad. (_But it would be easier)_

Drip, dripping, dripping always dripping.

Floating too. (_You would have had peace by now. Devoured. Floating in me)._

_Mom… mommy dearest…. _

Hurts. (_Let me ease it for you…)_

It hurts to drip.

Hurts to float. (_No, it’s so light and easy and peaceful)_

It burns.

Everything burns. (_Just another nudge… just another step forward)_

Everything…

…_speak to me._

Save me.

Red. Orange. Black. Golden.

See me. _(I see you.)_

Please!

_(I have always seen_ you).

_Mikey…_

(_Playing hide and seek.)_

I don’t want to…

(_… but you do. You have always loved to play)_

Red. Drip. Red. Drip. Red.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Black. Brown. Orange.

Floating, floating, float…

I’m drowning.

I’m burning.

I’m dying.

Please let me die. Dead, dead, dead, dying, dying, dying dead. Just die already. Just die. DIE!

(_not yet… not when we’ve just started playing again you and I)_

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

_ (Not when you haven’t fully started to float…) _

Floaty

float

float…

…

“What in all _hells_ happened?” It’s less a question and more of a command. The scene is being played on the two screens before them after all. One shows Twelve and the other shows Thirteen and the video feeds play simultaneously what had been filmed just barely over an hour ago.

The noise on both screens has been muted and Brian is glad of it. He’s not sure he’s stopped shaking yet and his ears still feel like they’re vibrating with the echoes of Twelve’s screams. And he’s been told by the attendant at Thirteen’s side that his screams had been worse. Brian hides a shiver and forces himself to answer the command.

“I don’t know sir. We were following the protocol you set out for today. At eighteen hundred hours, Twelve had been told to listen for you while Thirteen was taken to get the upped dosage…” He trails off but feels some pride at hearing his voice sounding calm, cool, and collected. Professional and detached. “By eighteen hundred ten, Twelve started to scream and then passed out and I called you sir.”

There is a stretch of silence that feels colder and unimpressed at the summary. But Brian cannot change the facts of the situation and he has nothing else he can add to help understand the situation further.

…

The Losers stand awkwardly at the bus station as one group, shoulders all touching. Kali watches over them and she can _feel_ Funshine staring at her to say _something_. What exactly he thinks she can do by saying some bullshit words is beyond her. She’s never been the coddling kind. And only one person has ever even pulled her to feel like she could coddle or take care of another being in such a way. And that person was _not_ standing in front of her.

Still, she finds herself clearing her throat.

“So, I know it’s already been said but…” The group turns to face her, eyes still slightly lowered and doesn’t that make them look like a pathetic bunch of kicked puppies. Tug at her heartstrings, won’t they. Fuckers. “The search isn’t over.” The words are said more forcefully. “I have a couple leads on scientists who used to work at the lab who still need to be brought to _justice_. We’ll make sure they talk before they receive their final judgment.”

One of the taller ones shifts at the announcement. She can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to ask what sort of justice it’ll be but then thinks better of it.

“And y-y-you’ll k-keep us updated?”

She shrugs at the safer question being asked of her instead, glancing behind her to see Funshine relaxing against the rusty side door of the van.

“If not me, I’m sure someone in Jane’s lovely little ‘Party’ will…” The teen glances at his friends as if to see if they’re okay with this. As if they have a choice. She is _not_ going to get sucked into babysitting and holding these kids’ hands. She’ll do the part of the hunting because it lines up with her own mission.

She won’t add more to that mission beyond trying to rescue the damned twins.

And keep in touch with Jane.

Nothing less. Nothing more.

Finally, all of them slowly nod and she turns away from them, motioning to Funshine to get his fucking big ass into the van without a word. She can’t stand stupid goodbyes. They’re a fucking waste of time and they really don’t have more time to waste.

She has the picture of the next man she’s targeting with information from Jane on where to find him.

This is what they should have been doing all along and _not_ breaking into a dead end shut down lab that had given her the creeps in that it had somewhat felt like she’d finally _come home._

“…Y-y-you call us. If-f-f you need us. W-w-we’ll come. W-w-we’ll con-continue to search for them t-t-too. We’ll never stop.”

She holds up a hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t turn around. She’s seen enough of suburbia and teenagers to last her a lifetime.

Tbc... 

A/N - I hope everyone had an enjoyable Turkey (or Tofurkey day) this week and had safe travels if you traveled!!! Also, hoping that everyone who's in the path of the major storm stays warm and dry and safe!!! Thank you all for the support and understanding you've provided me. It's truly priceless. Sending you all tons of love.

Also, about the story and the turn of events, I hope you all forgive me for not providing that quick and successful reunion I know many of you were hoping would come from the Loser's Club joining the Party in the search for the twins. We're just not quite there yet... <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days keep passing, meaning people are struggling and grasping at straws or outright losing their tempers...

Chapter 11

Day 35

Hopper doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit and he feels like every moment is another minute ticking closer to when everything is going to explode in his face. If it hasn’t already. Dr. Owens is simply another dead end. The man is clueless about who is behind the twins’ disappearance. His current advice simply echoes his past one. 

Keep her hidden. Keep her quiet. Keep her safe.

And that is all that Hopper wants to do. More than ever before. It’s too risky his heart and head yells at him. The fact that Dr. Owens agrees with him had even been soothing until he’d come back home to their cabin in the woods and had found her passed out on the ground; face a bloody mess once again. 

This couldn’t keep happening. She couldn’t keep draining herself day in and day out trying to find the Wheeler kid and his brother. She was going to kill herself. And he was grasping at straws to solve a mystery kidnapping with no _fucking _clues besides too many dead bodies available to him. He couldn’t lose her too in the process.

And it’s not like he could watch her 24/7 and forcibly keep her from going into the Void. Not and still work the case. His mind had worked feverishly to try and find another option. Joyce worked, the kids were only a temporary option with school starting in a handful of weeks and who knows if they’d actually help keep her out of the Void and not egg her into searching and using her powers in different ways.

No… this couldn’t continue. 

Hopper picks her up and frowns at how light he finds her to be. She must have lost weight again. He sighs and decides that he’s going to make his triple-decker Eggo waffle extravaganza special and make sure that he tops it with calories galore. He may die early of diabetes and a heart attack but damn it, he was going to make sure that she stopped losing weight in the process!

Carefully, he places her in her bed and tucks her in. 

“What the hell are we going to do, kid?” He whispers, hand briefly covering his eyes before it drops back to his side listless. 

…

When El wakes up, she feels ill. She’s feverish and her whole body aches. She knows immediately that she’s over done it once again and that she’ll most likely be chewed out _again_ for going back to the Void. But she can’t help it. She keeps hoping that each trip there will turn out differently. That Mike will finally be there and he’ll be able to give her a clue as to where he is and how he’s doing but today, the Void had been just like all the other times. Eerily empty. She wants to cry and hides her face into her pillow briefly so that any tears can be absorbed and hidden away as quickly as they come.

There’s muffled sounds just outside her bedroom indicating that Hopper is home. There’s no music though – just clings and clangs leading her to assume that he’s either cooking or cleaning. And that he has no updates to give her. If there had been, he would have woken her up. He would have let her know immediately.

Even Kali had been silent and without updates. She’d found one man and sent a photo of another person to find but since that call, nothing. The Party and the Losers are also at a standstill and it becomes painful to meet up together or call one another. Still, Will is usually here with her more often than not. Just not today. She can’t even remember why now.

El stays motionless, listening to the sounds. She doesn’t move even when there’s the softest of knocks on her door. She knows that he’ll poke his head in and at seeing her awake, he’ll most likely come in and try and urge her to eat. He’ll try and make her smile, try to instill some hope while also finding a way to remind her that she can’t keep doing what she’s doing.

She knows… and it’s making her want to scream. She doesn’t want to see his weathered face, the increasing grays and whites in his brown hair, the worry in his eyes all because of her and the continued trauma she continues to put all of them through.

If she’d never made contact, if she’d never created the gate, if she’d never run away…

If she’d never found Mike and attached herself to him…

If, if, if…

El can feel the sob build in her chest and up her throat. It hurts. Worse than any injury she’s ever experienced.

_Mike, I need you. Please come home… please, please… _

It’s day 35, 1 month and 5 days, 850 some hours and El can’t breathe. It’s so much worse being the one calling out blindly with the not knowing and having to grapple with the fear and the hope combined. She doesn’t know how Mike managed for the 355 days that he did.

But he had.

And it’s that little thought that leads her to push herself up and swing her feet off the mattress and back onto the ground.

He’d held out and had kept calling for her, searching for her…

So she would too.

El knows that she surprises Hopper when she opens the door to her room. The man has clearly been pacing back and forth between the kitchen and her room after not following through with his soft knocking.

“El…” He starts softly. “How you doing kid?” The question is gruff but his hand remains warm and gentle as it comes down to ruffle her hair. She doesn’t know how to answer the question and so she doesn’t. But she also doesn’t move away from the touch. She simply stares up at the man, this big solid man that had made her feel safe in a way she’d thought she’d never feel with an adult.

She wishes that feeling of safety had continued.

“Yeah…” Hopper clears his throat as if she had said something. “I hear you.” He sighs then, his hand sliding to cup the back of her head briefly before giving her a slight nudge. “I wish I had news, kid. I really do. Just know that I’m not giving up on them, okay? I will _never_ give up on them.”

Her eyes tear up at the strength behind the words and she nods helplessly. She doesn’t even have to ask the question out loud. It must be on her face because he nods in turn and whispers, “…that’s a fucking promise kiddo.”

…

“What haven’t we thought of yet?” Dustin asks, pencil in his mouth muffling his words. The pencil flies out of his mouth just as he finishes his question to tap impatiently at the paper that’s in front of them. It’s lined with various coded words and some have been scratched out as eventual dead ends. It looks a mess because it is a mess.

Lucas shares a little look with Max that speaks volumes about how he feels about the question. Unlike her boyfriend, she can’t keep her irritation quiet.

“How the hell should we know if we haven’t thought of it yet?” She snaps as she throws her hair back into a ponytail and out of her face.

“Not helpful Maxine.” Dustin responds with a dry tone and then yelps as her fist makes contact with his arm. Hard.

“You call me that again and…” Will takes her hand in his while giving Dustin a look. It’s _the_ look. The one that says that even their calm, peaceful cleric is this close to losing his patience. It’s been coming more frequent as of late.

“Alright, alright! But I’m _trying_ to come up with another line of investigation here and none of you are being helpful!” Dustin erupts, throwing his hat and pencil across the room. “What the fuck are we going to do? Their doctors were a _literal_ dead end. Went Tozier is _fucking _missing and no one has any idea where the man could have gone. Hawkins lab was just a fucking dusty maze that gave us a good work out…” Dustin ignores Lucas’ whispered grumble that the only work out Dustin got out of that episode was a verbal one. “Kali’s idea of regular updates is laughable and there’s nothing remotely helpful to gain from Derry. El’s literally wasting to nothing in front of our eyes and is getting _nothing… _and I mean _nothing_ out of the Void. And school fucking starts back up in what…? Less than a month?” He pauses and glares at the rest of the Party members. “Am I fucking missing anything?”

At first there’s silence to greet his question. It gives him time enough to reign his temper and feel bad. Hopeless even. He knows it’s not fair to take it out on them. After all, they’re all on the same boat, paddling in the same nameless direction. Completely lost at sea.

This was one curiosity voyage he was desperate to have come to an end.

He’s about to apologize but Will starts to speak.

“…Factually… you have it correct.” He starts slowly. “But El and Kali haven’t lost hope. They know Hawkin’s Lab and Dr. Brenner better than anyone. We have to hold onto that.”

“But what do we do with that?” Dustin asks plaintively.

“We make sure El doesn’t forget it. We keep her strength and her hope up. And if new information comes to us…” Will trails off but Max continues for him, voice strong.

“…then we act and kick some ass.”

A/N - I'm back! I think, I hope, (crosses fingers). Thank you everyone for all of the outpouring of support and understanding and I'm so sorry there was a delay in posting the next chappie. I'm hoping to remedy that by posting another chapter by this weekend and getting back on track. In any case, I know this chappie was lacking in the Losers and Kali but please know that they are absolutely and in no way done with this story and will be back! Sending you all lots of love and hoping this has all been a great week for everyone!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Brenner isn't happy and when he's not happy, well, nothing good can come of it.

Chapter 12

Day 46

Brian shuffles the papers before him nervously. Dr. Brenner sits patiently in front of him, hands steepled together in front of his mouth as he digests the most recent update on Twelve and Thirteen’s progress (_or lack of it_). It is a quiet confident kind of energy that surrounds the man but it always makes Brian a little antsy and feeling of being on edge. He doesn’t trust the quiet aspect of his boss’ nature. Especially not as of late.

Since the loss of Eleven and the kidnapping of Twelve and Thirteen, Dr. Brenner has been _different_ in a way that Brian can’t put into words. Brian had been convinced of the necessity of their research and all the steps that they needed to take, albeit unethical and at times dangerously illegal, to make it continue. And he still is convinced of its necessity even if it’s gone underground and is now privately funded versus openly approved and funded by the government.

For the most part.

It’s just that sometimes it feels like the goal of their research has shifted. Instead of trying to understand the mechanisms of what causes ESP and how to recreate this in others in order to have a stronger and invincible military power and who knows, even American population in the near future… there are times now when Dr. Brenner seems more interested in the ESP abilities to open doors to alternate universes.

Brian hadn’t personally been there for Eleven, for the gate that had opened and led to the closing of Hawkins lab…

But the whispers he’d heard and the few files on the incident that he’d managed (_furtively_) to get his hands on, told him that this was not a road to pursue. Not until they had more individuals on their side who could effortlessly close any door they opened.

Dr. Brenner’s slow smile catches his eye and he stops messing with the papers in front of him.

“I think I may know a way of providing Thirteen an incentive to work harder.” There’s a glint in the eyes that flashes an unnatural color that has Brian feeling cold. It must be a trick of the light though because there’s no way… _no fucking way_… that Dr. Brenner’s dark eyes could have been anything but what they usually are.

Still, he’s glad to be dismissed from the man’s presence and tries to forget the flash of gold he _knows_ he must have imagined.

…

It’s not completely unusual to have Dr. Brenner come get them from their room. It is more suspect that Brian isn’t there with him. The guard is though and it is a silent trek that takes them from their room to wherever they are now.

They are motioned to sit but Dr. Brenner and the guard remaining standing. Dr. Brenner has a soft little smile on his face and he starts to speak. Mike has a hard time concentrating on the words. There’s something itching at the back of his mind that makes him nervous.

There’s something very wrong here.

It’s Dr. Brenner but it… also isn’t.

There’s a calculated stillness that feels more dangerous than any other time that they’ve faced the man. Richie doesn’t pick up on it. But lately, there’s little that he cares to pick up on. He prefers staying curled up and locked in an internal dream world and Mike hasn’t had the heart to break him out of it. The breaking and ripping of that dream world comes too often in the form of syringes and other tests. Although since that one incident, they at least have never given Richie as large of a dose of the drugs that they’ve been flooding their systems.

Still there’s peace in the dream world Richie has created and Mike’s found himself slipping inside that world from time to time. Apologizing profusely every time for inviting himself in without permission. But he can’t help it. He misses Richie and he’s losing himself in here.

He’s losing hope.

He’s losing energy.

He doesn’t know what to do.

It’s strange because he always feels like he’d lost hope before, that he’d been tired before but… it keeps getting worse. He doesn’t know what it’ll be like when he’s finally completely emptied out. What will it be like when there’s nothing left at all?

“Kill the useless one…” The words are tossed into the air carefully, tone neutral, like it doesn’t matter. Like it’s just a boring fact being put out there with no room to argue against it. Mike’s brain latches onto those words finally and he feels his heart spasm painfully, knows that he’s been branded the _useless one_ based on the way that Dr. Brenner looks at him and that there’s no returning from this one. No El to save him, no Hopper to break in and change this story, he’s done.

The tunnel vision hits him and so he misses the way the guard pulls the gun, flicks the safety off, and points to him in one smooth practiced motion. He hears the noise though, the sharp crack that’s louder even than the rushing of the blood and the thundering heartbeat. He feels the pain and then everything goes black and hot then cold and he has no thoughts, no nothing to process anything at all. 

…

Richie has been on automatic for a while. It’s safer that way.

He lives in his mind where he can imagine himself back in this world that’s a mix of the best pieces of Derry and Hawkins rolled into one. In his world, the Party and the Losers get on fantastically and they love his jokes (_up to a point_). He still gets beep-beeped on occasion but it’s always when he’s deserved it.

Aunt Karen and his mom are a nice blend and Went, the ass, is nowhere to be seen. Frankly, Ted isn’t there either.

It is perpetually summer and the bike rides to and from the Quarry or the arcade are always full of laughter with no bullies in sight. There is no pain, there are no magical powers, there are no monsters hiding in sewers with floating red balloons enticing you down to float with them.

He and Mikey are unstoppable just as they are. No need to change _anything_. Not their geeky nerdy selves. No need to be girls to keep his mother happy and sober. No need to be anything but who they are.

Sometimes Mikey, his real life breathing brother, comes and he’ll see his imagined version of his brother disappear. Mikey-baby never says anything to disrupt the fantasy and Richie loves him all the more for it.

He knows it’s all fake. He knows he’s being an ass for leaving Mikey all alone to deal with it all but…

There’s something in his mind that has fractured.

He’s not ready to face it and make sense of what it means.

And it’s kinder here. It’s nice. And safe. And comfortable.

It’s everything he’s always wanted and ooh look, he just lobbed a loogie that was totally boss over the edge of the cliff. He’s always won at this game no matter what Eddie Spaghetti claims. The noodle head.

And then there’s a voice that doesn’t belong in his world that suddenly echoes and makes him look up at the blue sky ahead of him. The sky lightens from blue to white as the words repeat themselves over and over.

_Kill the useless one…_

It’s no longer a sunny summer day out in beautiful green nature that surrounds him. It’s just a white room with Dr. Brenner, a guard with a gun, and his twin that’s stiffened into a statue.

Richie freezes at the words and looks at Dr. Brenner in shock and disbelief. He must have heard wrong. This must be just another trick to get them to _do_ something. To _show_ the man _something._ After all, the man simply looks as he always does. Calm and unruffled. Expectant. He’s used to people obeying him and not questioning him and that’s exactly what’s happening. 

It’s a shock to be back in this space. In this world. It doesn’t feel real. _His_ world feels more real than this…

The entire scene plays out shockingly slow to Richie as the guard after a brief glance at Dr. Brenner simply removes his gun and points it in Mikey’s direction. Richie doesn’t think, can’t think, and maybe that is the trick. Maybe it’s the entire point of the exercise (_torture_) because there’s nothing to get in the way. It’s a pure adrenaline inducing moment of panic and something in Richie’s brain finally gives. 

The gun fires but the aim is thrown off at the last second as the guard suddenly erupts in flames and screams. Mikey crumples to the ground and Richie’s heart is in his throat, head feeling like it’s being ripped in half as blood starts gushing from his nose down past his lips and chin.

If Mikey’s dead…

He finds himself stumbling onto his knees towards Mikey, shaking him and finding in breathless relief that Mikey is still breathing. The shot to the heart had been deviated enough to have hit him in the shoulder and yes that’s good, that’s very good but fuck, fuck, FUCK!

If Mikey leaves him…

Mikey’s bleeding and the blood is spreading and the man is still screaming, trying vainly to stop the flames that are eagerly trying to consume him. The smell of cooking meat is filling the small room and Richie would be gagging now if he could actually stop and think and take everything in but he can’t. Shaking hands are pressing against Mikey’s shoulder, having given up trying to wake his twin up. It leaves his pale skinned hands suddenly shockingly red and wet and slippery.

“Please, Mikey, please… you can’t leave me. You can’t leave _me_!” 

Dr. Brenner is watching the scene, having backed away from the guard who has now stopped rolling around on the floor. Has stopped screaming. Has stopped breathing. The flames are still flickering around the body, dancing and growing in time with the boy’s frantic pleas and filling the room with unnatural heat.

A small smile pulls at the man’s lips. Carefully, he walks to the boys, kneeling down until he’s face to face with the conscious one. Thirteen. 

“Wonderful.” He breathes. “Simply, wonderful.” He reaches out and cups Richie’s face in his hands forcing eye contact. “Everything will be okay now.” He promises, ignoring the shudder that takes over the adolescent at the touch. 

...

They’re back in their room after both get treatment. Richie simple iron tablets and another pat on the back and soft words spoken his way about how he needs his rest. They’ll be continuing tomorrow now that he’s _awakened_.

Mikey’s gone longer to get the bullet removed and to get stitched up and bandaged. But he’s here. He’s here and alive. And at first the visual and physical reassurance that his twin is alive and simply sleeping the anesthetic off is enough for Richie. It’s calming and soothing to not be alone in the bare room.

But now it’s not enough. It’s not enough to get rid of the ringing in Richie’s ears that hasn’t quite left yet. It’s not enough to keep the sight of Mikey’s body simply crumpling to the ground, brown red liquid pooling around him, or to get rid of the yells that are replaying in his mind, or that _smell_...

Over and over again.

Richie is left to shake in the corner of the room alone, staring at his hands without truly seeing them. 

He’s killed a man…

A/N - Thank you everyone again for sticking with me through out the story writing process. I know this was not another light and happy chapter for our boys. But if it helps to know, I'm always someone who believes that there's a light at the end of the tunnel...so... Hopefully that brings all of you hope too! :P 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer continues but as all things, the end is around the corner and plans must be made and put into action. As for the twins? They're getting used to their "new normal"...whatever the fuck that means.

Chapter 13

Days 69 and 70

Physical wounds heal faster than emotional ones. Wounds can be stitched closed, blood washed clean, bandaged away until the only evidence a hurt had been caused is in the pale puckering of skin that tells a story. And even that can be hidden with well-chosen clothing or in Richie’s place, the bracelets that he’s been given back.

Emotional wounds – well – they’re already hidden from sight. They’re already invisible to everyone else. Nightmares can be a physical manifestation, same with the biting of nails till the top of fingers are bloody nubs but… nothing can truly capture what it’s like inside and how hard and how long it can take to heal emotional wounds.

There’s no painkillers or stitches or bandages or anything else… just time, maybe peace, maybe being free but even those options aren’t available to them. So the emotional wounds just grow, silent and hidden.

Emotional wounds cause mental blocks.

And mental blocks are inconvenient, yes, but once the right _incentives_ are found, anyone can be manipulated to move beyond these.

The tests get more demanding. Longer. Draining. Repetitive at times and then randomly and fantastically new. Sometimes together, sometimes separate.

The rewards are time spent together in quiet in their little room (_that has now become a safe haven in this hellish world_), videos of their family and friends on an old television (_and Mike isn’t sure if it’s really a reward and not just another way of emotionally breaking them_), trinkets from their past (_like the many bracelets back adorning Richie’s and only Richie’s wrist)_, better food and drinks, and lessons. Like school lessons. They get books on history and math and more so on different languages. Especially Russian. (_Much harder than Spanish, Richie bitterly complains but he does like the fact that it increases his repertoire of Voices_). Randomly, if they’ve done incredibly well, they even receive “gifts”.

Comic books, paper and pencils, hell… even drum sticks which freaks Richie out because it just shows how much of their case files Dr. Brenner has if he’s aware that as a way to help treat Richie’s ADHD and anxiety, Dr. Winterwell had been incorporating music therapy in their work together.

These treats add spots of color in their white box of a haven. It weirdly starts to feel like a ‘home’. And isn’t that fucking disturbing?

The punishments come in cold and long disappointed looks, silence filling the room and typically a nod towards the guards that are now always present in whatever testing room that they’re in. And then they’re both physically dragged away, shut separately in different rooms that are no bigger than the size of a closet. It’s dark and cold and desperately uncomfortable. If it had driven Mike crazy before not knowing how long they’d been taken away from everything they once knew… He didn’t even have words at how it feels to be completely isolated in such a darkened and small space.

The first time he’d filled the space with noise, his own, and his hands had mapped the space out and given his senses _something_ to work with. He’d also blindly and automatically gone into the Void to search for Richie and had drained himself completely and utterly. But now…?

Now he simply closes his eyes and curls in on himself, body automatically starting to rock in place. He lets himself shutdown and wait for it to be over. No matter how endless it may feel, it always at some point comes to an end. And then he’s back with Richie and it’s just another day, another test, another lesson…

He’s never going to be able to do what Dr. Brenner wants him to do. He’s not like El. He’s not like Richie. He can’t move things with his mind. He can’t crush cans or flip vans in the air. He can’t start a fire unless someone gives him the tools to do so like the basic matches and paper and wood.

And Dr. Brenner doesn’t like this.

He also doesn’t like Richie’s lip, doesn’t like Richie’s squeamishness at killing with fire… and though he’d been _incentivized_ to kill larger and larger animals, Mike guesses that throwing up after each kill wasn’t at all pleasing to the scientist who wanted super soldiers and spies. Not children.

The man is frustrated with them.

They’re like two halves compared to El’s powers. Not a whole. And maybe that’s just because they are twins. Or maybe even if they hadn’t been, it was just how they’re brains are wired. They aren’t Telepathic AND Telekinetic like El. And he’s terrified that he’s failing her because of it. That his inability to be both will lead to Dr. Brenner taking El back and using her again.

Mike is more and more sure that he’s more of an Empath with some Telepathy and that Richie is simply a Pyrokinetic. After all, Richie was pretty much useless at moving anything if it wasn’t also on fire. Not really a subtle weapon but definitely a powerful one.

Mike leans his head back against the wall but keeps his eyes firmly closed. He doesn’t need to see the darkness right now. He wants to reach out to Richie but he also knows he shouldn’t. He’s too weakened by the earlier tests and anyway, how would it help?

He’d probably just get in Richie’s way of staying in his own dream world. The one that Mike had helped rebuild after the very first time of being punished in this way. After Mike had been shot, Richie hadn’t been able to go back to the dream world on his own. Had been terrified of it. As if it was his fault and the dream world’s fault that Mike had been shot in the first place. But if Mike wasn’t handling the isolation rooms well, Richie handled them worse if his bloody hands and elbows and bruised face were any indication.

And so, Mike had rebuilt the dream world in Richie’s head. And whenever he _felt_ Richie losing it, he’d gently mentally nudge him into it without any words being shared. It didn’t matter if they were physically separated. They were never truly entirely separated now. Mike knew how to find Richie any time, anywhere. And yes, Richie had fought him on it at first but he no longer did now.

So no… it wouldn’t help reaching out to Richie right now. It would only disrupt his illusion and highlight how bleak and dark and small their isolation rooms were. And Richie hated nothing more than being separated and alone in a darkened closet with no knowledge of when they’d be brought back together again.

…

It seems surreal to Nancy to be standing in the store with her mother and Holly, looking at the school supplies when just outside there’s missing posters of her brother and cousin plastered on the walls. They’re somewhat faded and ripped in places and it makes her want to march right back outside and rip them off and just put up new ones that are more bright and colorful and will keep the search for the twins alive.

Mike and Richie disappearing is old news now. Barely anyone in town mentions them or the failed search beyond disparaging comments on Hopper and the Hawkins police department and awkward avoidance of looking at anyone in the Wheeler family directly. There’s a silence that falls whenever they show their faces into town. As if no one quite knows how to deal with them anymore.

It feels all too familiar.

They’d done this with Barb’s family too. The only difference is Nancy had known Barb was dead and hadn’t known how she could bring that news to her parents so that they could quit their desperate search for their daughter. She imagines that everyone in town views the Wheelers in a similar way.

Poor pathetic family, holding onto hope when there isn’t any left.

The town had already buried the twins in their minds, assuming that they were dead and never to be found again. The initial fear that the disappearance had caused had left after no other attacks came and curfews that had been created in reaction simply dwindled or were forgotten.

Maybe, maybe the twins had even run away. She’d heard wind of these rumors and had been shocked by how widespread that particular one had gotten. After all, the twins weren’t _really_ the Wheeler’s children. And it was probably comforting of thinking about the boys simply being gone versus a predator forcibly taking them away and not having been caught.

Nancy catches a woman openly staring at them and quickly turning away, flushed at having been caught. She simply blinks at the sight before looking at her mother. The woman is still put together but she’s paler and thinner and simply older. Frailer. It hurts her heart to see it and so she stays where she is, standing next to her family instead of leaning into the impulse of yelling at the top of her lungs.

She grabs a notebook on automatic and throws it in the cart. She doesn’t have too much to get and the quicker they can leave, the better it will be for everyone.

The door jingle alerting everyone in the damned place that a new customer has arrived doesn’t pause her in her mission. She’s startled then when she hears Hopper’s gruff clearing of his throat. She looks up at him surprised before looking around her and realizing belatedly that her mother and Holly are in an entirely different row than she is now. She can see them still but barely.

“Hey, how are you holding up?”

“Fine...” She responds with half of a shrug. “Did you need my mom?” The chief of police shakes his head and she isn’t sure if this should make her feel relieved, disappointed, or suspicious with a touch of hopefulness. What exactly did the man want? Or was it a coincidence that he was here when they were here?

“Actually, I was hoping to bump into you.” He continues voice low. “Would you be free and available to join us at the cabin tonight? After dinner?”

So make it suspicious with a touch of hopefulness. She briefly glances back again at where her mother and little sister are and wishes that she could ask what she really wants to ask. Had Hopper gotten an update about the boys’ case? Had the Party finally told him about Kali and the Losers and had it spurred a new line of investigation? Or maybe, just maybe, Kali had gotten back to El with actual news.

But she can’t say any of that and so she looks back to him, hugging the items that she’d been examining before. “I’ll be there.”

…

El is sitting with Max on one side and Will on her other side with his older brother sitting on the couch’s arm. Lucas and Dustin are talking quietly on the floor next to the couch with Steve chipping in with his two cents here and there. Hopper is pacing while trying to look like he’s not in the space that makes up the cabin’s kitchen while Joyce talks to him in a way that makes it clear that she’s trying to either calm him down or provide him with motivation of some sort.

They’re all waiting on Nancy to get here so that they can finally know what it is Hopper wants to share with them. He’d been weirdly nervous and it had made, especially the Party members, filled with anxious energy.

The younger teens had spent most of their afternoon offering up different ideas of what it was the chief could possibly want to tell them. The different ideas had gone from hopeful to horribly depressing and morbid and finally they’d decided that this was one brain storming session that wasn’t helpful to them at all. El had remained adamant though in her belief that Hopper would have told her already if he’d had any direct information regarding Mike and Richie.

This had to be about something different. Something new.

The others were less sure about it.

El sighs and Max looks at her, distracted at the noise from continuing to listen in on the boys that are near her feet. The redhead wordlessly is asking if she’s okay and El can only shrug. She wants to know already what this is about.

The knock at the door though awaited for is still startling and everyone jumps at the sound. El opens the door with her mind before anyone can start moving forward. Nancy quickly comes in, voice frazzled sounding as she apologizes for the delay. Something about Holly being upset today and having a harder time slipping out of the house because of it. El isn’t paying attention to the other girl though because she’s back to observing Hopper. His hand is tense around the beer can he’s holding and Joyce stands from where she’s been sitting and simply puts a hand on his arm.

She knows, El thinks, as her gaze goes from Hopper’s face and reading his body tension to Joyce’s overly expressive one. Whatever it is that Hopper wants to share, Joyce already is in on it.

Hopper doesn’t have to play host as Jonathan gets up and helps Nancy find a place to sit next to him and then everyone’s just staring at the two adults. Hopper curses under his breath and takes another long gulp of his beer before giving a sigh.

“So…I wanted you all here today because… school is about to start.” He’s looking directly at El now and she frowns at him in question. She knows that there had been a ‘plan’ before _everything_ that in the distant future, she’d be introduced to Hawkins as _his_ daughter. That she’d be woven into the community and join the school with the boys and Max but…

But how could she now?

“I’ve talked it over with Owens…” El can feel Will’s body tense at the name of his former doctor. “… and I think it’s time for El to start school this year. We’ve waited long enough.”

“With everything going on? You really think that’s a good idea?” Dustin sounds incredulous while Steve swats at him to be quiet at Hopper’s sudden scowl because of the interruption.

“Look kid, we don’t know what’s going on with the twins and no, I haven’t stopped searching and yes, I do think it’s the best idea with everything going on. She’ll be with you all during the day, surrounded by others and that’ll give me peace of mind while I’m at work… working on the case.” El is stunned. She knows that the others are too and she hears Dustin inhale because he’s got questions. But he isn’t allowed to ask them as Hopper continues. “I need you… all of you… to get her ready.” The unspoken sentiment is also that he needs them to all keep their eyes on her.

To keep her safe.

More details of the plan that had been hashed out between Owens, Joyce, and Hopper are shared with the teens. A schedule is mapped out regarding tutoring sessions and when El will be staying with the Byer’s family for when the search for the twins’ takes Hopper out of town. There are also other details such as what’s going to be shared and how she’s _really_ going to be introduced and when Hopper is signing her up at the school.

The background story of El’s past is created and everyone is lectured on what can be done, said, and what clearly cannot happen. Steve and Jonathan are signed up as designated drivers for El to and from the school when Hopper won’t be around. Really, it’s like any moment of the day has been mapped out for her so she’ll never be without _someone_. It hasn’t even started yet and she feels trapped by all of them. Questions are asked and answered or just outright ignored and more than once, Lucas or Steve halt Dustin from getting into a verbal sparring session with Hopper about the weaker parts to this plan.

Hopper only lets a sigh of relief loose when it’s finally just him and El – alone again.

El is staring at him. She’s been awfully quiet throughout the process but she’d nodded at the new list of “Don’t be Stupid Rules” that have been worked out as a group. He’s not sure what to make of the expression currently residing on her face. When he turns to ask her though, she simply shakes her head and closes the door behind her when she goes to her room.

He moves to follow her but is frozen at the sight of the fully closed door. He finds himself hovering there, warring between following her and asking to talk and just leaving her be so he can have another drink. It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a couple of long weeks merging into months now. And like hell they’re any closer to getting out of this fucking nightmare. He leans forward until his head thunks on the wooden door.

“Kid..?” There’s no answer. But now that he’s this close he can hear crying on the other side and his heart clenches painfully.

He knows this isn’t how she’d imagined it. It’s not the original plan… but it’s all he can offer right now. So he stays where he is, silent witness to her tears. Unable to say or offer more than that in this moment.

…

When the door opens to reveal blinding light, Richie can only react by blocking his face and standing up awkwardly. His constructed dream world so harshly snapped away from him from the intrusion of another person finally coming to deliver him from this hellhole that he’s left reeling. He feels unsteady on his feet, thighs cramped from having stayed in one position too long but he also _needs_ to get out of there and so he moves forward anyway without taking the time to let the normal blood flow resume to his legs. There’s no time to waste waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change in light. A hand grabs at his shoulder _hard_ and it hurts but it also keeps him from falling right back down. He allows the manhandling that brings him right back to his room and finds his cramped stomach finally easing at the sight of Mikey on the cot.

His twin seems more or less fine. Nothing drastically different since the last time they’d seen each other. And that’s a relief.

Richie lets himself fall right beside Mikey, automatically grabbing for his twin’s hand. They’re silent as they wait for the guards to close and lock the doors behind them. He has no idea if or when they’ll shut the lights off in their room. Not that it really matters at this point. The sudden access to light is still painful to his eyes and he’s left wondering how long they’d been left to stew in the rooms this time. Not long enough to shit in their pants (_and yes, that had fucking happened at least once or twice and no he would NOT feel bad about it. Fuckers had it coming, locking them up the way they did with no way to communicate to them the very real need for a bathroom_) but long enough to feel… that strange exhausted numbing quality. As if this lit up world was the fake one and his dream world was more real and alive than anything else.

Mikey’s fingers twitch under Richie’s grasp and it forces him to look at Mikey closer.

_I’m sorry._ Mikey’s voice in his mind is strange to him, even now. But it’s soothing too. _I should have known better than to provoke him._

Richie shrugs, mouth dry and feeling like it’s full of cotton. He tries to _think_ back at his twin versus opening his mouth to talk. There’s no water in the room and it looks like any belongings that they’d been _granted_ have been stripped from the room as further punishment. They’d have to work and be good to get everything back. Fucking mother fuckers. It’s really not Mikey’s fault anyway. If he hadn’t provoked the man, Richie most likely would have before the session was over.

_Fucker deserves to hear the truth – whether he likes it or not. _The way Mikey’s fingers twitch again confirms that Mikey’s listening for and hearing him. And if that hadn’t been enough, there’s just the start of that tell tale sign of a bloody nose that Mikey’s trying to furtively wipe away. _You okay enough to do this…? _

_I think so. _There’s a pause and it’s unintentional, not conscious, but his desire for Mikey to be able to use his slowly but strengthening telepathy on reaching out to others to save them must get communicated because Mikey sighs and pulls away. _You know I want to… But I can’t. I can’t hold onto the Void long enough… and I haven’t been able to do that with anyone outside of this building yet. I’m just not strong enough…_His voice is frustrated and defensive and Richie wants to take it back at the sound of it– but also… how can he? He hadn’t even meant for Mikey to hear that.

It was all just too fucked up.

Tbc... 

A/N - Hi everyone!!! I realized that there might have been some confusion with what Mike can do vs. what Richie can do so hopefully this chapter dispels any of that confusion! I want to thank each and everyone of you for continuing to be such supportive, wonderful people. I enjoy every comment, every question, suggestion and feedback. :) You're all amazing and you keep me motivated. Thank you, thank you, thank you... 

I will be traveling for the Holidays but my hope is to continue working on the story. I also hope to add a couple more chapters on "The In Between" to balance the hopelessness of this story since I'll be off of work for a bit. However, if I'm delayed in posting, please know that I'm wishing all of you a WONDERFUL HOLIDAY and a HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! <3 <3 <3 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick chappie giving a peek into El and Kali's situation before checking-in with the Losers.

Chapter 14

Day 77

Visiting Kali in the Void has become a habit for El. Just like searching for Mike in the Void becomes a daily routine. At least the visits with Kali actually lead to a conversation versus a desperate plea that gets lost in the vast nothingness that is the Void.

Kali today is sitting on a makeshift bed in an abandoned warehouse when El connects with her. Her hands are holding onto a mug of what El supposes is coffee. She waits for her sister to acknowledge her before gently sitting down facing her. Kali’s acknowledgment is simply a raised eyebrow and continued sipping from the chipped mug.

“No news?” El breaks the silence and Kali simply shakes her head.

“You know I would have called if I had any, little sister.” The older girl responds with a shake of the head. “We hear whispers. We’re tracking them as best as we can but no new target currently.” She doesn’t apologize. She’s doing the best she can with what she has. El has to accept that.

El does even if she doesn’t like it. She nods and wishes that they weren’t simply in the Void interacting and were actually together-together. She’s been wishing more often now that she’d never gone back to Hawkins, that she’d followed her sister instead. Maybe all of this could have been avoided. Who knows?

The silence stretches but isn’t uncomfortable. It’s long minutes before Kali asks.

“So are you ready for school?” El shakes her head and shrugs. She’s ready in that her things have been bought and packed and she’s already met the principal and taken a tour of the building. She’s been ‘assigned’ Max as her designated buddy and she knows that Hopper must have done _something_ to make sure that it was Max that got that job. Everyone in Hawkins already knew about the Chief’s new daughter and from what the Party had told her, they’d bought the lie about her origins hook line and sinker… whatever that meant.

But emotionally was she ready? No.

Mike was supposed to be there with her. He was the one who was supposed to protect her and ease her into this brand new world and he’s not. The Party tries to be there but it’s different and they simply don’t get her in the way he did. Does. She closes her eyes as tears start to spill and presses hands to scrub at the ones that have managed to slide down.

“Little sister…” The words are sighed out and Kali reaches in her direction. They can’t touch in the Void. It’s not like that… but both of their powers have strengthened and the connection that they have to each other has increased as well. So despite not being able to physically touch each other, their powers can combine and she _feels_ it as Kali numbs some of the emotional pain away. “If I could make you completely forget, I would.” Her sister says quietly when she breaks the connection away. “But it would simply be a temporary illusion.”

“I don’t want to forget.” El says brokenly.

“I know.” Kali mutters. She knows but she doesn’t understand. She knows that if she could forget pain, she’d erase it without an after thought. “You just want them found.” Kali hears the bitterness in her voice and gives a semi apologetic shrug to ease the edge the words have. “I’ll keep you posted as always, little sister.”

“I know.”

And with that, they both let go of the Void, each snapping into the colorful world that is their own.

…

In Derry, the rest of summer has quietly and slowly been eaten up on fruitless searches and the Losers feel ill prepared for the first day of school that is now facing them.

Phone calls to Hawkins, Indiana have shown up on each of their parents’ phone bills and each member of the Losers have found one way to explain the long distance calls. For some their explanations were smoothly tied to a formed friendship at the supposed camp they’d gone to, for others it was irate reminders to their parent(s) to mind their own fucking business, and for the rest it was just a quiet silence that answered nothing at all. If their parents noticed a slow but building depression and hopelessness fall upon their sons, they didn’t approach it directly.

Well, Eddie’s mother did but she did nothing by halves and Bill had found himself more and more often hosting the smallest group member after another explosive fight between Eddie and his mother had him running away. At least for a night or two at a time. Eddie’s mother had even driven down one of the times and gotten into a screaming match with Bill’s parents to get her beloved son back but to no avail.

Eddie’s temper and stubbornness had withstood any dramatic scene or threats that she’d attempted to use to manipulate him and he’d only gone back home when he was ready to do so. Although Bill isn’t sure what it means for Eddie to be ready to deal with his home life once more. If the summer with _It_ had left Eddie stronger to go head to head against his mother and had dimmed his fear of supposed diseases he constantly needed to fight off with medications, Richie’s absence had caused a resurgence of Eddie’s asthma in an alarming way. It didn’t matter that Eddie had never actually had asthma, the symptoms were back and so was his inhaler.

None of the Losers challenged him on it. Instead each tried to take turns carrying his spare. Granted, Stanley was the best at keeping it clean and in a state where Eddie would willingly use it without having another panic attack about where it’d been kept in the first place.

It’s scary starting high school. Scary and unreal. They’d thought surviving middle school had been a feat but now that they’re facing the next chapter, any excitement at the prospect has been dissolved by acid-like anxiety. And it’s made worse knowing they’re members short with the most important one who would have attacked the anxiety with bracing humor missing.

Tbc...

A/N - HAPPY NEW YEAR everyone!!! I hope everyone had restful, recharging and/or exciting holidays! Mine ended up being a lot more busy than expected but full of meeting up with family and old friends. The upside to that was it was fun, the downside is that I didn't get to write as much as I'd wanted to so sorry for the delay in updating the story!!! Also, I'm sorry for the short chapter update. It just wrote itself like this and felt completed as is... More to come when I can update next! I'm back at work and it's been crazy!!! @.@


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Richie reveals a secret to Mikey and El learns what babysitting means...

Chapter 15

Day 158

The longer they’re here and the longer Richie is left to stew in his thoughts, the harder it hits him. He misses _everyone_. It hurts how much he misses the Party, Holly, the Losers, Aunt Karen, Mikey’s room and the basement…

But he’s lying to himself whenever he tries to convince himself that he misses everyone equally the same. He’s lying when he tries to explain it away as to why there’s only one person that he sees every _damn_ time he closes his eyes and tries to rest. Tries to daydream the nightmare away. And he knows… he’s growing aware that there’s one person he’s always desperate to see whenever Mikey and he are _rewarded_ with live video or audio feeds of their friends and family going about their daily lives.

Richie rubs at his chest unconsciously trying to physically soothe the ache away. Mikey is tense beside him, eyes also hungrily staring at the screen. The video is grainy but it still clearly shows their friends sitting outside of the school. Whoever is filming them is too far away to capture any sound and in some ways it’s good. It means there’s enough distance that whatever dirt bag is following them around isn’t actually close enough to interact with them. Still, he’s hungry for more than the flashes of his friends on the screen. He knows all too soon that the video feed is going to be turned off and that they’ll simply be left with the soundless memories. 

It looks like Stalker has grown again. Red is still stubbornly holding onto her skateboard even though it’s clear with the way everyone is dressed and huddled close together that it’s getting too cold and sooner rather than later, snow will start to fall. After all, the trees around them are all naked. The leaves having fallen weeks ago.

Fuck… he can’t believe it’s nearing winter. He forces his mind to take in other details rather than get lost in the pit of despair that is yelling at him to take note that they’ve been here for months now. _Fucking months_. And no end in sight and no evidence at all that anyone is searching for them anymore.

Which is good.

It’s good that they’ve stopped. He doesn’t want them to get taken. No… and Ellie Belle deserves the freedom that she has right now after having lived through this shit the first eleven years of her life. He has to remind himself of that and hold on to that instead of feeling the hopelessness fill him that no one is searching anymore. So he takes another breath before moving his eyes off Stalker and Red and shifting to look at the rest of the gang.

Dusty appears to be cracking some joke, a goofy smile on that friendly face making Richie want to smile and cry at the same time. Ellie Belle looks like a shadow of herself, withdrawn, yet definitely protected by the Party. She offers the curly haired boy a strained smile but doesn’t appear to say anything in response and Red simply shakes her head. Richie knows that Mikey is probably focusing on Ellie Belle and her alone after having scanned the rest of the Party and finding them doing well. 

Richie’s heart hurts as he finally allows himself to focus on Will-Will. He’s grown but not _too_ much and he’s right next to Ellie Belle, shoulder brushing hers. He looks…like, well… He looks like Will has always looked like for Richie. Calm, quiet, peaceful, accepting, and incredibly gentle. His wide brown doe eyes kind and clearly paying attention to everyone in the group, discretely taking stock of how the Party members are doing. It’s weird being able to see it happen from this end. The minute glances and physical shifts to communicate without any use of words that totally keeps the group calm… maybe even happy.

He misses him. Like holy fuck does he miss him. Misses all of them and he just doesn’t dare even blink because he knows it’s going to feel too soon when that video feed cuts out without warning. It always feels too soon. It always feels like a heart break and he’s never ready for how much it hurts.

So Richie keeps his eyes peeled on the screen, ignoring how they start to water and how salty tears start to roll down his cheeks. He’s not crying. It’s just his eyes straining from staying open so long.

Really.

… 

The morning classes are over and it’s finally when they’re all in the cafeteria for lunch that El shares quietly with the Party members that she doesn’t know what is taking Hopper out of town tonight. She doesn’t believe that he’s gotten any new leads in Mike and Richie’s case but the older man has gotten more infuriatingly tight lipped in that area since she’s started school. Besides reiterating his promise that he hasn’t forgotten them, hasn’t given up, he typically avoids the topic by giving grunted answers and drinking more beer when she does bother asking him for updates. All she knows about tonight is that Hopper wouldn’t be back until _late._ And she needed to be with the others and not at the cabin alone.

When Max learns of this predicament, she immediately offers for El to come spend the night over her house, eyes bright and excited in a way that they haven’t been for awhile now. If El doesn’t mind babysitting with her beforehand, that is, the girl tacks on rushed at the end. El cocks her head to the side, watching her friend with one big question mark on her face.

“Babysitting?” That doesn’t sound pleasant. Weren’t babies tiny and fragile? Why in the world would you go around sitting on them? Dustin hides a little tired chuckle behind his hand which is just as well cause El can’t handle being the butt of another joke because she just … she didn’t get _things_. And not that anyone in the Party made her the butt of the jokes but so many of the kids at Hawkin’s High seemed to go out of their way to make sure that she knew how _weird_ and _out of touch _and perhaps even _stupid_ she actually is. She feels her eyes prickle with frustration and misses as Max firmly elbows their curly haired friend before turning her attention back to El once more.

“Yeah, basically it’s watching after younger kids while their parents go out on a date night or do other things that they can’t do with kids in tow. I promised the Wheelers I’d watch Holly tonight.” Mike’s last name brings a pang of pain in her chest that’s sharp and unrelenting and the prickling in her eyes increases, fresh tears filling them but not quite falling.

“Oh yeah, I forgot you’d said you’d do that in Nancy’s place tonight.” Lucas mutters quietly, dropping his sandwich back on the brown paper bag that had hosted it just minutes before. It’s clear Mike’s last name has an impact on him as well, appetite suddenly lost.

It’s not like they don’t mention Mike and Richie anymore. They do, nearly every day. It’s just that it’s hard and it hurts, every damn time. El can only look down, closing her eyes in hopes that she can keep the tears at bay. Swallow down the sadness and frustration and fear that had build permanent residence in her chest where her heart beats on stubbornly.

El feels Will shift beside her before he clears his throat softly. “I think Hopper wants El to stay with mom and I tonight.” He offers with a slight shrug, mildly apologetic. Max wrinkles her nose.

“Seriously?” She huffs a disappointed and slightly irritated sigh. “I mean, I get it. I do. But jeeze… finally a chance for a sleepover that _I _can attend and it still gets nixed. Sometimes it seriously sucks being surrounded by this _much_ testosterone.”

“Awh,” Lucas wraps an arm around Max and gives her a quick hug and kiss to her temple that leaves the red head wrinkling her nose again. “You know you wouldn’t trade us for the world.”

“Yeah,” Dustin chimes in. “And honestly, I don’t see why you couldn’t attend one of our sleepovers now that El’s part of the gang. Especially at the Byer’s home. My guess is Mrs. Byer’s would probably just have you girls in another room when it came time to sleep.” He puts the word sleep under handmade quotation marks in the air. El doesn’t look up but she senses how every Party member turns to look at Will and her to see what they think of this plan.

“…I uh… I guess I can ask my mom?” Will says softly. “Does this mean we’re all babysitting too or…?”

“I don’t mind babysitting.” Lucas offers quickly and Max scoffs.

“Really?! That’s rich, and definitely _not_ what you said when you were bitching about having to babysit your little sister.”

“Have you met Erica? She is the quintessential _worst_ pain in the ass little sister! You wouldn’t want to babysit her either, believe me. But Holly? Holly’s sweet…”

“Quintessential?” Dustin chimes in, voice teasing. “That’s a big word coming from you. Got an English test coming up?”

“Oh fuck off, Dustin.”

The lunch conversation sort of veers off course then as the group debates their siblings (or lack of them) and El finds that she can breathe again and lift her head back up. She’s still not entirely sure of the plan, not entirely sure what it’ll be like to step back in the Wheeler household but she knows at least, even if she does, she won’t be alone.

…

Its hours later before the twins find themselves back in their room. The lights are still on despite it having been a long day. It’s probably the only reason that they’re still awake, waiting for the lights to be turned off before they head to their separate cots and sleep while they can. Like friggin’ pavlovian dogs. Instead of salivating when the bell rings though, they sleep when lights are turned off and are awake when the lights are flicked back on.

“Mikey…?” Richie starts and Mike turns to him to show that he’s paying attention.

“Yeah?” His twin is quiet in response to the verbal prompt and leans more heavily into him for a moment or two. It’s not the first time that Richie has gone to start a conversation, hating the silence and simply wanting to break it but falling short because what can they say? What can they talk about? 

Initially, when they still had held on to hope, they had tried to plan their escape but that had quickly dwindled into ashes. There had been a few times that Richie had tried to rekindle the hope, the effort… but as the dose of the medication had been upped and the various tests increased to identify their powers and determine the extent of them, there had simply been no energy left to do much of anything but sleep and eat when they were finally left alone. 

The symptoms of anemia, the fatigue along with the insomnia and the cold and the lightheadedness, hadn’t helped things. However, now that they were getting iron supplements on a regular basis, things were easing up… _slightly_. 

Mike wonders if he should try and break the silence, knowing how much it can bother Richie. But his mind is blank and he feels tapped out. Today had been hard on more than one level.

He’s gaining confidence in his abilities and he’s been keeping track of just how much he can do without causing a nosebleed. It seems to vary at times but he thinks that with all the practice that Dr. Brenner is giving them, it shouldn’t take too long before he can try and reach out to the others without giving himself away. It’s hard not to test it prematurely. The temptation is there, every day. If he could just manage to get a hold of El… even briefly than maybe, just maybe they’d have a chance to get out.

But the costs are too high to try and get caught and get a bullet shot straight through his brain. There’s _something_ about Dr. Brenner that is _off._ More so than when Mike had seen him as a 12 year old. He’d seemed more human than and more in control of his emotions. Barely human, sure. But still… human.

The man had always had screwed morals and ethics as far as Mike was concerned but there had been a glimmer of a person behind those eyes. Now though… sometimes when Mike would watch him observe them, the nice little lab specimens that they are, he’d get a flash of _something_ else being around Dr. Brenner. Something that _wasn’t_ at all human and seemed to be nudging the man in certain ways.

He seemed unhinged in those moments. Like he was warring with multiple priorities that didn’t quite go hand in hand. One minute discussing ways to assess their utility for the US military and how to replicate what they were becoming and how to share the findings and the next maniacally smiling and talking about the Gate and the value in reopening it. It’s the latter moments that make Mike’s blood freeze. Reopening the Gate is too _insane _to contemplate. He’s also pretty sure it’s in these latter moments that Mike and Richie’s value is measured differently.

That they seem more expendable just as long as they got the Gate open first.

Mike jumps slightly as Richie starts to talk again so quietly yet effectively pulling him away from his thoughts.

“I think I’m gay… or … maybe not. I find girls pretty too. Is it weird? That I might like both?”

“Uhm… no?” Mike internally winces at how he sounds. It doesn’t sound sure or reassuring at all which is not the message he wants to give Richie. But damn it, that was definitely not at all where his mind was at and he’s taken just a bit off guard by the subject change. Also, his mind can’t help but wonder as to who? (_As in who had captured Richie’s attention?)_ And when? (_Had to be before this shitty chapter of their lives. Someone at school? Someone from the Party? From before?)_ And why now?

“That’s fucking reassuring…” Richie’s voice is muffled as he pushes his face into Mike’s upper arm, most likely rubbing an itch away that he’s too lazy (_too drained_) to physically scratch away with his own damned hand. It better be that and not that he’s wiping his nose on him. Which his brother had done before. Mike just huffs.

“No. I mean it, Rich. It’s not weird. Just really fucking random to announce this now.”

“Well what else should we talk about, dipshit?!” Richie grouses, showing him the finger because of his use of _Rich_ instead of Richie. “If this isn’t the right time for big soul changing confessions – I don’t know what is. I mean, stuck with each other till we’re killed or changed into monsters…” Only one arm flails to highlight the drama of each word Richie chooses. Mike would roll his eyes but he knows that the drama is exactly that.

A show.

“I guess the weather is too mundane for you, huh.” Mike’s tone is dry as his mind keeps spinning.

“And non-existent in this hell hole, you asshole. When’s the last time we got to see outside a freaking window?”

“Too long,” Mike agrees. “But we know it’s winter time now…or approaching it anyway.”

“Cause that’s not fucking depressing.” Richie grumbles. The two fall into silence for a bit before Mike breaks it again.

“I really don’t care that you like both Richie. It’s not weird at all.”

“How come you’re so okay with this…?” The question is asked softly. There’s no surprise there. Just curiosity.

And there’s so many different ways to answer this question. All of which would be the truth, a piece of the answer as to why he’s not more shocked or bothered by the revelation. Different memories come to Mike’s mind and he hums as he considers how to put all of them together into something coherent to give back to Richie.

“…because I know it’s not a choice.” He starts with and feels Richie straighten up in order to look at him. His shoulder’s cold now where Richie had been slumped into him just seconds before. “I didn’t have a choice with El…It just… _is._ Why would it be different for anyone else?” He trails off, knowing that it’s not the whole of it.

But it’s a pretty fucking big piece and Richie’s giving him _that_ look. It’s an expression that makes his entire face twitch between vulnerable, proud, exasperatedly fond, and mischievous. There’s a joke that could be made at his expense and Richie’s mind has definitely thought up of it and is debating (_due to the lack of an appreciative audience)_ whether to give in and share it, Mike’s sure of it.

“You are so whipped…”

“Shut up.” Mike mutters but there’s no venom in it.

Just an ache. He hasn’t been able to keep count of the days spent in here. He just knows it’s been too long and the pull to reach out to her comes so strong again that he’s left staring at the wall hard, trying to keep the prickling at bay. When he’s breathed through that, stuffed the ache and the need back down, he starts the conversation back again. “It’s not just her you know…” The words are slow to come.

“Uh huh…” Richie’s head thuds back comfortably onto his shoulder. “What else is there for you besides your soulmate?”

“Will.”

“Come again?” _(Oh and if Mike could only hear or even just _feel_ the sudden panic that Will’s name coming from his lips just caused in Richie. But he’s tired and drained and so he misses the very answer to the question he’d thought just seconds before.)_

Mike sighs and looks at the ceiling. “People calling him a fairy at school isn’t exactly a _new _thing. I remember asking Nancy why they kept calling him… sometimes us that… and when his father left…” He trails off before giving a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s just not a new concept.”

“What do you mean… when his father left?” Mike wonders if Will would mind that he’s sharing this with Richie. The thought (_concern_) is quickly followed by the next that it may not even matter. It may not ever come to light anyway because they may never get out of here – or not in any way that they can safely reconnect with the others. And oh what the hell… he’d opened the door on this particular subject. He can’t just close it back up with no explanation.

“Will’s dad left a handful of years ago. Will overheard his parents just before he did. His dad made it clear he thought Will was gay and that it was his mom’s fault because of it…Anyway. We talked then about it and I told him, I didn’t care either way. If he is or isn’t… His dad’s the piece of shit. He’s the one that’s less of man for walking out on his family.”

There’s silence that follows this admission and Mike is left wondering what Richie is thinking at this point. He’d expected a question (_hell, more like a dozen questions and jokes included_) but not the silence. He glances down and sees that Richie is still awake and he doesn’t look like he’s receded into dream world. If anything, he looks alert albeit frowning.

“…what?” Mike finds himself asking finally.

“What do you mean, what?” Richie mutters, words half mumbled into the fabric of Mike’s shirt.

“What are you thinking?” Mike clarifies, trying to sound not half as exasperated as he actually feels. Especially as Richie doesn’t answer right away. He does eventually answer but it feels like forever before he does, leaving Mike to have concluded that the conversation has ended prematurely.

“…I’m thinking…” Richie starts slowly, voice having a slightly broody quality to it. “… that the Party shares way more about their personal lives directly than the Losers ever did.” He gets up as he speaks, pushing himself off of Mike as he does and body twisting away from him entirely. “Or maybe, the Party just shares more with _you_.”

And he’s not sure why that observation makes him feel guilty as hell. But it does, and he’s left to stew in it as Richie goes to lay on his cot, eyes closed and suddenly the very opposite of chatty and teasing. What he doesn’t realize is that Richie’s remembering a moment in the Derry Arcade where he’d been left alone to deal with the same curses that Will’s had to face. And he remembers how lonely and cold it had been to realize how fucking different he is and apparently how scarily easy it had been to see that difference in him. None of his friends had been there to defend him. And he would have preferred fucking Bowers’ gang beating him to a bloody pulp than imagine even telling the Losers what he’d realized that day.

There’s also the memory of carving letters out on a piece of wood and he can’t think of his first real crush without feeling vaguely ill.

It all goes back to the difference he supposes. The difference in the roles that they played in their respective groups or something fucked like that.

…

It is strange in so many different ways that El knows there are no words to describe her reaction in being greeted at the front door by Mike’s mother…aunt. She looks up into that tired and pale face and recognizes the way that painted mouth turns into an automatic polite smile. It’s frail and fake and the one emotion that comes up most prominent that she can pinpoint at seeing it is sadness. El feels her own lips quirk up in a pale imitation of the smile before she drops her eyes.

She doesn’t think she can see much more without her own brittle polite mask falling away and so instead she looks behind the woman, letting Max take the lead in going over the standard greetings and explaining who El is. She remembers this entryway. She remembers the way Mike’s hand had felt as he’d tugged her around his house, excitedly letting go just to point something else out. She wonders if that Lazy Boy he’d had her try was still there. She wonders if the photographs of the happy family will still be spread all around the house.

She remembers the photographs and feeling a sense of wonder and yearning. It had been such a strange small passing moment. One of many in the few days they’d had before she’d been torn away from him for that very first time. Mike had saved her in so many different ways. But seeing his life, it had also put a spotlight on how very broken and different she is…

El bites the inside of her cheeks hard and feels the biting metal taste of blood as it fills her mouth.

She’s not sure she can come here. Not like this. Not with him not here.

Her heart is beating so hard in her chest that it’s all she can hear and feel for a moment. There’s a movement that pulls her attention and she makes eye contact with a pale little girl. She’s really little, blond pale hair pulled into two pigtails and her eyes are wide and sad as they lock onto El’s.

Their color is blue framed with long eyelashes, not at all like the dark brown that both Mike and Richie had inherited. And yet, as El keeps looking at her, she can see the family resemblance regardless. She still has those round, round cheeks that Mike had when they’d first met. Soft and sweet.

The little girl blinks and slowly moves forward to wrap her arms around her mother’s leg, breaking the flow of words momentarily. El watches as Holly nudges her face briefly into that leg and how Mrs. Wheeler’s hand automatically goes to ruffle her daughter’s hair in a move that is gentle and sweet and speaks so loudly of love and care. Hopper does this too and El wonders if it’s something all parents do when they love their children. Holly just holds on tighter in some ways but those bright curious blue eyes open back up to glance once more at her.

El finds herself kneeling down to her level and offering the little girl a wave.

“Hi Holly,” She says in a tone barely above a whisper. “My name’s El.” The little girl seems to be considering her more seriously; one hand unwrapping from her mother’s leg to make its way into her mouth. She’s chewing on her thumb in what seems to be a nervous gesture and El can’t help but be reminded of the way Richie would bite his nails during times when he’d been nervous.

Like after she’d made the bike float. Or when they’d watched some scary movies all huddled together at the Byers’ residence. It hadn’t gone unnoticed despite how he’d laughed certain scenes off or talked so loudly and quickly, gestures animated in a way that was bigger than even Dustin’s exaggerated hand motions. She’d still noticed that in the quieter moments or after he’d been _beeped_, he’d start to bite at his nails, his moves less fluid and just slightly jerky only stopping once Mike would reach over and gently tug that hand out of that mouth. Neither of the twins would say anything in those moments. Sometimes Mike wouldn’t even have to look over. He’d just do it as if he just _knew_. And the motion was one that seemed like second nature to him.

Like he’d grown up doing it.

She takes a little shuddering breath in and gives the little girl a crooked smile.

“Do you like stories, Holly?” The little girl blinks, mouth chomping down harder on the thumb and El sees as Mrs. Wheeler does the motion. The one that Mike did for Richie. That gentle tugging of the hand and the offering of her own spit free hand palm up. The chubby toddler fingers grasp her mother’s adult hand like it’s a sudden lifeline.

“She loves stories. Her…” There’s a hitch in Mrs. Wheeler’s voice before she continues. “Her big brothers are the best at reading her stories.” El feels that pain in her chest again but she nods to the words.

“We probably won’t be as good,” Max offers. “But we can definitely read a couple together if you’d like. And bake cookies and draw, even braid each other’s hair like we did last time… It’s just us girls tonight, k Holly? And El is way cool.”

There’s still a hesitance in accepting the offer. In letting her mother go completely. But there’s also trust in those wide blue eyes. She clearly knows Max and is willing to take her hand, still shy and curious of El.

It’s only by the end of the night that El feels completely adopted, her arms full of the sleeping four year old. Her chest is tight with conflicting emotions, none of them winning the internal war. She rests her cheek to the top of the little girl’s head and whispers promises to her that she’ll never be alone.

She’ll bring her brothers back. She will, she will, she will…

And Max stays quiet, the silent witness to El’s tears.

Tbc...

A/N – I have a confession to make. I started writing Long Lost Child right after Season 2 of Stranger Things came out and I had finished watching it for the second time along with watching IT (2017). I couldn’t wait until Season 3 of Stranger Things nor for IT Chapter 2 to come out and my brain was just filled with ideas and scenes of what could be if the two worlds came crashing together. The idea for Long Lost Child just would NOT leave me alone. I started writing it mainly for myself until a close friend kept poking me to let her read it. And then saying I should share the story and not keep reworking each chapter 100x over with just slight changes. When I started the story, I had vague ideas of where it would go. I had certain thoughts about the characters, like of course it would be a Mileven story and a Reddie story in the future because… what else could it be? And then the more I worked on it, the more the characters came to life for me and had opinions and voices of their own and really the story has definitely changed from where I thought it would go. I share all this to say, for those of you who are hard core Reddie fans, I hear you. I see you. I am one of you. There are hints and flavors of past Reddie and what could have been future Reddie if Richie hadn’t left Derry, but… I don’t think it’s going to be a Reddie story like I originally planned it to be. Will caught Richie’s attention in a way I hadn’t expected as the author (for all my fellow writers, has this ever happened to you? Characters taking over their own story?). In any case, I’m going to stop rambling now. :) I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the first month of 2020 and staying warm if you’re in a place where Winter is going strong or staying cool if it’s currently Summer where you are.

As always, thank you for the continued support, comments, questions, and kudos. I always genuinely enjoy hearing from all of you. <3


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Algebra I, sensory deprivation tanks, and what did you say? Floating red balloons? Oh my... o.o

Chapter 16

Day 200

The day El and the rest of the Party are introduced to more advanced Algebra I problems that makes her head hurt, the twins are being ushered into a different room altogether than what they’re used to. It’s not any of the rooms that they’ve done testing in before. Nor are they the ones where they’re taught lessons by random men in lab coats that for all their knowledge on the subject they’re teaching, seem to care little or even be aware that they’re teaching kidnapped teens.

This room is larger and there’s more than just the typical 1-2 guards and Brian or Dr. Brennan or even their fuck ass random teachers. Instead, the place seems to be crawling with white lab coats running around these ominous looking _things_ that Richie can only assume is where they’re being prodded to go. He doesn’t like the look of them in the slightest.

“Fuck my life…” Richie moans at the sight of it all. He gets an elbow to his ribcage for the moan and really, Mikey-baby needs to cut that shit out. He can’t go around getting bruised by his twin for cursing. It_ doesn’t_ help! It just makes him want to curse more. Take on a sailor’s Voice and really let it rip in here. Actually, that may not be a bad idea.

Before he can open his mouth to try it out however, he’s being prodded in the back by someone new. Someone who has something to give him apparently. A …what the fucking bloody hell…? He takes it and holds it out in front of him for further inspection. He squints at it and comes to the sinking realization that this monstrosity of dark fabric is a one-piece bathing suit that has wires coming out of it.

“You have got to be shitting me.”

“Rich-“ Mikey starts at the same time as Dr. Brennan’s calculated voice cuts in.

“No time for humor today, Thirteen. Please carry on…” If the man even knew what humor was, Richie would eat a hat. No sauce added. No whining either. He’d just eat it whole and hope not to die choking on the tougher bits of fabric. But he feels pretty safe in his assumption that this great white shark of a man has no idea what humor is and wouldn’t recognize funny if it bit him in the ass. So he simply makes a face at the man but chooses (_wisely and _NOT _cowardly_) to say anything at all. For this moment.

He sees from the corner of his eye that Mikey is already working on pulling the new ‘uniform’ on and the sigh that leaves him is a little less than an outright explosion of air. Just when he didn’t think things could get worse, that was when life decided to shit on him even further. His brother looks fucking _ridiculous_! Which granted, who the fucked cared in this looney bin about any sort of fashion sense but this was alarmingly ugly. And it didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. How was this going to do anything to help their progressing ESP talents to blossom? Because if he was being honest, if anything, it was going to make _EVERY_ part of him shrink versus grow and shine. 

“So where exactly are we going swimming in trunks that date back from the 1920s anyway, doc?”

He sees his twin cast him a warning look and he knows better. _Really._ He just... he’s trying okay? But the glare does get him moving at the very least and he finds himself tugging his hospital gown shirt-_thing_ over his head and onto the floor.

It’s still weird the no privacy bit. Even if the adults continue to do their work, none of them ever making any eye contact or taking note that they have two teenagers in their midst doing a very (_non-sexy_) strip tease. (_Not their fault it’s not sexy or remotely enticing… the get up and atmosphere was down right sterile and depressing. And the audience was really below subpar)._

“Not swimming per se… but you will be entering a sensory deprivation tank.” (_A what now?!)_ The man continues calmly. He’s handed a clipboard and he signs off on something (_God only know… or maybe the Devil. Yeah the Devil may be more on the money. No God or Angels here._) and the nameless henchmen is off without a word. “It will help you both to truly focus on your potentials.”

Richie can honestly say that he doesn’t like the sound of that at all. But it’s not like he has a choice in the matter. Once the suit is on, Mikey and him are simply walked closer to the scary looking contraption. A helmet of some sort is fitted on both their heads and then all that’s left is to wait as they’re lowered into the water.

…

It’s not quite the peaceful floating in tepid water like he’d seen El do in the makeshift sensory deprivation tank that he and the Party had put together with a kiddie pool and shit tons of salt. Instead, he’s anchored in a somewhat cage looking dock _thing_ and at first, Mike can’t help but hold onto its metal frame with a death grip. He knows oxygen is being pumped into the helmet that had been attached to him but… it’s still disconcerting being plunged into a dark pool of water.

It had been even more nerve wracking when the window to the tank that had let them look out into the room had been slowly but surely closed, leaving Mike and Richie plunged into more complete and isolated darkness.

If it wasn’t for the water, this would have felt remarkably like the punishment closet and Mike closes his eyes in reflex, his muscles wanting to tense automatically into a squatting swaying position. He feels himself slowly lowering and flinches when a hand reaches out and brushes his.

Richie…

He turns to face his twin and straightens slowly, comforting smile tugging at his lips.

Richie has to be more than half blind here, with his glasses taken away from him. Instructions are suddenly being spoken into their respective helmets and Mike simply grasps his twin’s hand hard.

They’ll get through this together. Like everything else.

…

Bill is stuffing his books back into his backpack when he sees something in the corner of his eye that makes him stop mid motion. He squints at the dirty windowpane but whatever it is he thought he saw is gone.

Yet for a moment, a chilling, panic inducing moment, he thought he’d seen a floating red balloon out there. Just slowly making its way across the school lawn. There’s no sign of it there now and Bill has to shake his head.

It’s nothing, he tells himself. Just lack of sleep. He goes back to packing his backpack and finding his friends in the crowded hallway. A part of him wants to open his mouth and ask them if they’ve been seeing anything weird around lately but he can’t make himself push the words out in the open.

For one, Bill _knows_ he’s sleep deprived and that he probably mistook a red bird for a red balloon. And secondly, even if he did see a balloon, not all balloons signified _It’_s presence. After all, even if the bastard was alive, 27 years had not yet passed. And besides Richie and Went Tozier being missing, no one else has disappeared from Derry. No random murders either. Or hate crimes.

Bill rubs at his face, taking particular care to press his fingers to his eyes for just a bit in vain hope that he’ll feel more awake and stop seeing things.

“You alright, Bill?” Stan asks, carefully fixing his backpack strap on his shoulder as the Losers slowly start to make their way out of the school building. The concerned question gets him moving forward, hands dropping to his side and eyes opening, just mildly sore from the pressure they’d just been exposed to.

“Y-yeah… fine. Just t-t-t-tired.” Ben gives him a crooked smile for the answer and taps his friend’s arm gently.

“I hear you. It’s hard to sleep these days.”

“I don’t know.” Eddie mutters, clutching his books closer to his chest. “Maybe you all should try some allergy meds. They knock me right out.” Stanley shakes his head, slight roll of his eyes at the apparent misuse in medicine. Ben makes a non-committal sound and instead changes the topic to possible weekend plans in a way that very diplomatically avoids a fight and it makes Bill smile just a little more honestly. He really, truly loves this rag tag bunch and he doesn’t know what he’d do without them.

He feels his heart slow down and the fear in his body lessen bit by bit. It’s completely gone by the time Mike joins them in the courtyard from having finished his homeschooling session and farm chores and they decide that they’ll start the weekend off with a movie marathon and a sleepover.

If they make a call to Hawkins, Indiana between movies, Bill’s parents are none the wiser. There’s still no news and nothing provided to them that gives them much to work off of and so, spirits lowered, they just turn back and pop in the next movie all of them haphazardly piled on top of one another or near each other on the family couch. They’re like a pile of puppies. And none of them comment when Eddie takes his “medicine” and falls asleep, softly snoring deeper into the couch, mouth half open and drooling against Bill’s shoulder – much to Stan’s disgust. Bill doesn’t honestly care. There are much more disgusting things in the world then drool. 

In some ways, Bill wishes he could join his friend in what seems to be mindless oblivion and he has a feeling the rest of the gang feels similarly.

Tbc... 

A/N - Thank you, thank you for all the continued support and well wishes as the story progresses as well as all of the understanding. You're all awesome!!! I am trying to write a more light hearted and cute chapter for the In Between for all of you as we wait for the boys to be rescued and it's nearly done. There's just a couple bits to it that are giving me a hard time. -.- But... I'm moving forward with both projects! One sentence at a time... 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Day 220 and things are changing...

Chapter 17

Day 220

“Impressive.” The word is pushed out there begrudgingly. He hates being here. Hates the man he’s standing next to. He finds the entire enterprise disgusting. Deplorable. Dishonorable even. Still, he hadn’t been able to say no to a direct order once it had been commanded of him. And so here he is.

“Indeed. They grow in strength and ability every day.” Dr. Brenner says, voice calm and even. Neither of the men look away from the one-way mirror, seeing how the boys nearing manhood are faring on the challenge of the day. “Despite their ESP limitations in comparison to Eleven, they may suit your purposes better.”

“IQ?”

“Superior for both once Thirteen’s ADHD was treated correctly, scoring around 120-125 on the WISC. They learn languages quickly and have enough social and emotional intelligence that they should be able to infiltrate different spaces easily enough given the right information. They’re well on their way to being half way fluent in Russian, and have passable knowledge of Spanish and German.” Dr. Brenner pauses briefly before continuing in a monotone voice. “Their weakness is in caring too much. But I’m sure with the right training…”

The Captain stiffens minutely, glancing at the doctor before going back to staring at the research experiment he’d been certain had been shut down months ago. “What exactly are you asking for?” Dr. Brenner simply smiles.

“If you want them to be undercover operatives, that sort of training falls more under your purview. After all, we are merely simple scientists, not soldiers.” The Captain finds himself gritting his teeth, jaw muscles clenching.

It’s sullying simply being here. Knowing that children are being tested upon. But he cannot un-see the results. He cannot lie to his superior officer and say that Dr. Brenner is the madman that he knows he is. Because the madman has apparently been more successful this time around in creating what could save thousands of American soldiers’ lives.

Still… children.

The man half shakes his head, reminding himself that plenty of sixteen year olds had been allowed to sign up to serve during Vietnam. Mainly through lying on their papers but still... This couldn’t be that much different.

“I’ll see that they get the training needed.” He finally says curtly.

“Wonderful.” Dr. Brenner says simply, small smile still playing on his lips. “I’m glad we’ll be partners once more. With your support, we’ll be able to focus our endeavors on other possibilities.”

… 

It’s a bit jarring when their “classes” intensify in workload. They’re no longer seen as rewards for good behaviors and simply just become daily happenings. Their days become more structured and more full. Mornings are for ESP trainings with various scientists measuring their brainwaves for God knows what sort of data and following a quick lunch break, they’re prodded to hit the books. Suddenly, it’s not just languages, world history and complex maths, its engineering and different types of sciences too.

And if that wasn’t exhausting enough, a military uniformed man starts to come every other day, barking orders in their faces and having them run a circuit that Richie thinks is Hell personified. And don’t get him fucking started on the weapon’s training.

The only way to survive the routine is really to just go blank. Simply respond to the orders without a single thought. It’s always made to be easier when only their numbers are yelled at them and never their names.

At least they’re together for the classes and physical training. But more and more often now they’re separated when they’re being tested on the range and strength of their ESP. And Richie _really _REALLY doesn’t like that change.

…

Nancy is in the kitchen, wiping down the dinner table on automatic. Her mother is tending to Holly’s needs and her father is already settled in his armchair for the night. All of the players in her family know the routine so well that anyone looking in on them wouldn’t realize how very wrong it still, and most likely would always be within the four walls of the Wheeler family.

There’s a lack of noise and life in the house now that the boys are gone. There’s a lack of mess and cheer and sarcastic wit and comebacks and insults. There’s a lack of movement.

Richie’s wet towels are nowhere to be tripped over and Mike is no longer there to put syrup in her eggs and antagonize her by being the little shit that he could be about her boyfriend of the time and her really non sneaky sneaking out attempts. Neither of them are there to break into her room and loot her depressingly empty piggy bank. Neither of them are there to make funny voices to each character in Holly’s favorite books that would make her little sister laugh or cheer or gently fall asleep to. They’re no longer there to enrage her about all the time they’d spend hogging the bathroom in the mornings and using up all of the hot water.

Last night had been the first time that plates hadn’t been out for them for dinner. She’s not sure what had been worse – the small gesture starting to erase them out of their daily routine or the lack of Holly’s reaction to the plates not being put out for them. She knows that her parents are giving up, has heard them fight about what possible next steps are even available to keep the search going. She’d never heard her father speak so passionately, using data to win an argument and the words still ring in Nancy’s head loudly…

“_the percentage of missing kids ever coming home and the percentage of them being killed within the first three hours of their disappearance and god damn it Karen, can’t you see the facts?! They’re not coming back, they’re most likely dead and we have our actual kids to take care of!”_

She’d been horrified, wishing blindly that she’d never overheard the fight. Never heard her mother’s screams and sobbing wails after.

She wishes she could forget. But she can’t.

It’s colder in the house.

There are talks of putting the house on the market. Of selling it and moving to Florida where her grandparents live. The truth behind the talks is that her parents are also considering separating… and Nancy knows her mother can’t afford to stay in this house alone. If her parents divorce, her mother will be forced to move back with her own parents. She has no idea what she’ll do if it’s how it all plays out. She simply can’t imagine that sort of fractured future.

Nancy is still trying to hold onto hope. She knows more about Hopper’s investigations than her parents have been made privy to. She knows how hard he’s still working on finding Richie and Mike alive. She knows about Kali and El and she just… she has to hold onto the fact that they’re still alive.

She goes to rinse off the sponge free of breadcrumbs. She can hold onto that hope. But she knows it’ll never repair the fractured state of her family even if…when… the twins get returned to them.

“Nancy…” Her mother’s voice startles her and she drops the sponge in the sink, blinking rapidly as she turns to face her.

“Mom, you scared me. I thought you were with Holly.”

“I was,” Her mother is holding out a shredded envelope to her and Nancy finds herself swiping it from her hand in one quick motion. It’s useless though because if her mother had it, then the gig is up no matter how much Nancy takes it from her. “Nancy, what is this?”

“Were you in my room?” She can hear her voice raise but there’s actually no anger that she feels in that moment. There should be. A boundary has been crossed but … it just feels like they’re playing the part like they should, like if the boys were still here but they’re not and so it all feels fake. And useless. A waste of time and energy.

“Don’t change the subject, why did you rip your college acceptance letter, Nancy? Why didn’t you tell us…?”

“Because I’m not going! I can’t…” (_I can’t leave you here alone to continue searching for them, I can’t leave you when dad might. I can’t leave you or Holly and I can’t leave this place. So please don’t make me. Please don’t force me to move on with my life the way dad is forcing you to. Please, please, please… don’t, just don’t…)_ She wants to say it all but she can’t.

Her father is standing just outside the kitchen door, silently asking for the letter to be handed over to him. And Nancy can just shake her head quietly no as she tightens her grip on the letter.

She’s already made her decision.

She’s not going and they can’t make her.

She’s not going to move on and live her life until they’re found.

Tbc...

A/N - Ouf da! It's been awhile and for that I apologize. I've been a snotty coughing mess of a monster for the past couple of weeks and the cold bug + having to work overtime for my job left me completely drained of energy - physically and creatively. I think I'm on the mend... *knocks on wood*. What I can say is that things with the twins will start to pick up from here on out... 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ESP powers go stronger, Mike uncovers what Phase II of Dr. Brenner's plan entails, and that definitely spurs the twins to action...

Chapter 18

Days 300 and 305

Mike finds himself slipping into the Void. It’s easier when he’s in the sensory deprivation tank, tepid water holding him gently. After all, it’s already dark in here. Just like the Void is.

He remembers the task that Dr. Brenner has given him but he knows that they’re “challenging” him right now and they don’t expect him to do it quickly or even at all on his first try. And that gives him some space to test what he can do without them knowing. Mike takes a step forward in the Void, water rippling underneath his foot. He wants to see where Dr. Brenner is. He wants to know what it was that was so _damned_ important that the man had been pulled away just as he had been lowered into the tank and Richie pulled to go God only knows where.

As he thinks of the man, not just his physical features but the sheer feel of him, the Void starts to shift. The darkness seems to swirl and an office slowly materializes around him. He can see Dr. Brenner talking to someone who is handing him files but he can’t quite hear them yet. He can however, definitely feel excitement and hunger coming off of the scientist in pulsing waves that are almost nauseating to Mike. Whoever is the faceless man that he’s talking too, the man doesn’t share those feelings. There’s just fear emanating from him and it’s distracting.

Mike tries to block him out by moving closer to Dr. Brenner and focusing his attention just on him. The already faded and slightly misshapen image of the frightened stranger becomes dimmed but doesn’t quite leave.

Still, it does the trick because as the fear abates, sound starts to fill Mike’s head. Soft and gurgled at first as if he was hearing them from under water (_which… technically he is_) but slowly, Dr. Brenner’s voice starts to sharpen and words becomes more clearly enunciated.

“Wonderful.” The word is said almost reverently. “Phase two is stated to commence then…?” Whatever the stranger responds isn’t heard but Mike feels as Dr. Brenner is filled with pleasure. He sees as the man simply nods. “By all means, you have my permission to start if they’re as promising as your observations declare them to be.” There’s a pause. And slight irritation flares. “Of course don’t start with the Byers’ child. I’ve told you time and time again. He’ll be…”

But Mike’s grasp on the scene flounders at the strength of his own emotional reaction at hearing his friend’s last name. Whatever Dr. Brenner says is no longer coherent but he can still see the man. He can still see what he’s holding. So Mike moves closer and just tries to focus on that and that alone. Tries to get evidence that he heard wrong and it’s not about the Byers family. That Will or Jonathan or even Mrs. Byers aren’t going to be pulled into this mess again.

Dr. Brenner is moving but Mike manages to see that the file has clipped images of young faces attached to papers and he tries to hold onto the names and addresses before letting the Void go entirely.

…

Richie’s test had been entirely different today. No sensory deprivation tank or nasty old beach ware for him today, thank you very much. He’d been instead placed in front of military appareled men (_not Rambo who he’d grown used to and whom he’d started appreciating the little quirk of lips that showed that Richie’s smart mouth got to him, despite his training to be an all macho stoic dipshit and a complete fucking hard ass. Honestly, no one needed that many abdominal and arm muscles. It could NOT be healthy.)_ who had looked way too serious and uptight for their own good. They clearly had _NOT _appreciated his attempts of humor via his newly acquired Russian accent. It was a bit hard to say whether they’d been impressed with him at all to be honest.

But they had liked his fire trick. And what the hell, at least it had been a new fucking audience for Richie to play with. Even if he was getting a wee bit worried at how many new faces that he and Mikey were starting to meet and have to perform for. It feels like it’s signaling an end to something and a beginning to something entirely different.

At least it hadn’t lasted too long and Richie is already back in his and Mikey’s shared room. Mikey is nowhere to be seen but Richie’s used to them being on different time tables when it comes to the ESP portion of their day.

Richie’s head hurts and he wipes his nose again with the back of his hand. When he moves it and glances down at it, there’s just dried blood that’s sprinkled onto skin. His nose had stopped bleeding minutes ago but it’s become almost second nature to check again – just in case.

Bloody loogies were definitely the worst. In taste and texture and just… urgh. He isn’t even sure they’d do well in a loogie spitting contest the Losers had so loved to play. At least not if they were using his criteria of going the furthest and not just for most interesting looks and textures.

_Eds, Dear Boy, Wherever you are. You’re still fucking wrong._

He’s caught contemplating this worldly and very important fact when Mikey is pushed back into the room. His twin is back in the hospital garb but his short hair is still wet and dripping trails of water down his face and neck. He’s pale, paler than usual, and it makes Richie half start to stand in case Mikey decides to simply face plant right at his feet. He wouldn’t put it half past his twin.

They’re being pushed so much harder these days he’s not sure the iron supplements alone are going to be enough to treat the ensuing anemia that comes from the frequent and heavy nose bleeds.

Mikey’s the one to grab him though and he’s startled at the strength in the grip. He’s even more startled at hearing Mikey _talk_ to him without actually talking. His twin isn’t even trying to be subtle as blood starts to trickle slowly down from his nose and past his upper lip. It leaves Richie blinking at him a bit perplexed before the words actually click in his brain.

_ Richie… what was Stan’s last name? And Big Bill’s? _

“What?”

_What are their last names, Richie? Focus! This is important. Their last names… Uris and Denbrough? Was that what they were?_

“What the fuck, Mikey?!” He tries to pull away and out of Mikey’s grip.

_Richie. _The way his name is said tells him that he must have answered Mikey somehow. Probably with how fucking alarmed he fucking feels right at this moment. Like fucking fuck. What the fuck was this now about?

Whatever it is, he knows it can’t be good.

…

Their plan is in some ways slow to come together. In some ways it’s not. It’s slow in that they have to tread carefully as they continue to test the boundaries of their powers. Mikey learns all too quickly that whenever he tries to reach for El via the Void, _something_ gets in the way. And Dr. Brenner is all too good at making sure that whatever Mikey’s told to do the next day drains him completely. It’s like the man knows that Mikey’s attempted to contact the outside world…

But he doesn’t seem to be as aware of when Mikey’s roaming the building via the Void, mapping it out in a way that they can keep track via one of the notebooks they now own. He doesn’t seem to realize that Mikey can talk to Richie as easily as he can and Richie can sketch what Mikey sees. The motherfucker is simply not aware that the twins are onto him and his hellish Phase 2.

They’re going to stop it. They’re not going to sit back and let it unfold.

This is going to end here. 

Dr. Brenner also isn’t aware of Mikey’s Empathy either and how he can manipulate other’s emotions as well as their thoughts. Mikey is starting to test how _much_ he can manipulate and in what ways.

At first it’s subtle, like making Android end their lessons early or feeding them a snack that hadn’t been planned. But Mikey had apparently had to _hear_ Android mentally salivating about his Snicker’s bar all morning and fuck damn, Richie definitely enjoyed Mikey’s bitchy move of having Android hand it over to them instead. Richie had almost forgotten how much he fucking loved chocolate and caramel and shit…

He’s drooling at the mere memory and Mikey’s going to be pissed if he’s distracted. He’s supposed to be on the lookout in case one of their other “tutors” (_like fucking Rambo_) comes to get them for their next lesson. If that happens, he has to break Mikey out of his trance and help him clean the blood away because the bloody noses were a dead giveaway that they’d been fucking around in ways they weren’t supposed to be. And that always led them to the isolation closets for hours on end. Richie could do without that trip to black hell, thanks much.

This – whatever the fuck Mikey is attempting now – doesn’t feel as subtle or nearly as easy to explain away. It’s making Richie slightly nervous but at the same time, the small victories that they’ve been sticking to Dr. Brenner and all his lackeys are dimming the anxiety that something can go wrong. After all, too much already has gone wrong for them.

They need a win right now. They need a big one. And he trusts Mikey. He trusts in Mikey’s powers and in his plan. They also need the confirmation that what Mikey learned about Phase 2 is actually for real. They need more information as to when it’s supposed to take place and how much time they actually have to do something _big_. Something SO big that Dr. Brenner is forever going to regret picking them up, giving them these powers, and training them to be whatever the fuck they are now.

So Richie goes back to paying attention, acting like he’s working on his history assignment when in reality, he’s keeping an eye on his twin as well as listening out for any noises outside of their small room. The door has only been semi closed.

Mikey’s body is physically in the room but he’s not actually ‘here’. His eyes are closed, hand covering his nose in a bad attempt at hiding the blood that’s been gathering and dripping down. It’s only been a couple of minutes since Mikey had _suggested_ to Android that they needed a certain file to complete their lesson. He just hoped Android would be quick to get back… as it’s going to be quite the task to clean up the bloody mess that Mikey’s face is making and Richie really doesn’t want to have to come up with an explanation as to why Android is missing too on top of everything else. Although come to think of it, maybe he _should_ be thinking of some amusing reasons why Android isn’t here.

Like the man is screwing Dr. Brenner’s mother on the side or…

He sees his brother’s face contort angrily and hears as Mikey takes in a sharp breath, lips forming words but Richie can’t quite read them before Mikey’s face smooths itself back into a relaxed, simply concentrated expression. Still the minute movement and hiss of air totally takes his mind off of what he had been thinking about and he watches his brother more directly.

Several more quiet (_B-O-R-I-N-G_) minutes pass before it all goes to hell. There’s the sound of footsteps running and Richie gets up alarmed, hand going to smack Mikey’s arm just as Mikey’s brown eyes snap open. He can’t pull back the hit and feels the vibration of the slap as it runs through his hand. He can only imagine that Mikey will feel that one later.

_Sorry_.

But whether the apology is heard or acknowledged doesn’t matter because the door to their room is slammed open and it’s sheer chaos. It’s not the usual crew and Richie finds himself yelling as he’s being pulled away from Mikey. There’s at least five grown men per twin which is a bit of an overkill but not really because these motherfuckers have taught him to fight. And he does.

The fighting makes it hard to keep tabs on Mikey but he sees it in flashes. Sees how the men inject something in Mikey that makes his twin drop like a stone. Sees him getting dragged out of the room and fuck it, no more time to be _nice_ and _polite_.

The fire alarms start blaring, their piercing notes making everyone’s ears hurt and the water sprinklers start going off almost automatically. But the misty spray does nothing when it comes to Richie’s flames. One man shrieks and lets go of him and that allows Richie to move his hand in such a way that the flames simply grow and move in tandem with his movements.

He’s about to kill _all_ of these motherfuckers when something suddenly pinches hard in the back of his neck.

And then he’s nothing.

Tbc…

A/N - *wrinkles nose* I guess this can be construed as a horribly mean, mean cliffhanger. I'd apologize but it was way too much fun to write! I'll try and update soon!


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie wakes up and tries to connect to Mikey while back in the Wheeler household, El continues to bond with the youngest of the Wheelers...

Chapter 19

Day 306

Richie wakes up tied down. And it’s not just his legs and arms tied to the bed, there’s also a fucking band keeping his head securely down onto his pillow. He’s bloody well hogtied and he’s helpless to do anything but curl and uncurl his fingers, his bitten off nails barely scratching at the surface of the thin mattress below him.

“Mikey?” _Mikey?_ He calls to his brother both ways and receives nothing in response. It’s so very quiet. Too quiet. His next call is a yell.

And another one, and another until they come in and sedate him once more. There’s peace in the unconscious darkness. No thought and no worry. No ticking of passing time. Nothing.

When Richie wakes up next, Rambo is sitting in the room with him. The ex-soldier is smoking quietly, eyes distant.

“Rambo, good man.” Richie starts, throat killing him and so parched that it feels like his tongue just gets stuck to the roof of his mouth. His lips are cracked and his head is fucking pounding. “Tell me I’m allowed fucking water…” The man doesn’t startle even though Richie is almost a hundred percent sure that Rambo hadn’t been aware of Richie coming to. He simply looks up slowly, drawing out one long puff on that cigarette before flicking it aside and stomping it out with a measured move, damning the clean sterile-ness of the place to hell.

If he wasn’t still hog tied, Richie might have appreciated the move. It’s a little like a _fuck you_ to the place.

Right now though, all he really wants is Mikey and a glass of water. And to be untied. All of that would be nice right about now. And so he can’t spare the energy to appreciate the move.

Rambo stands up until he’s at the side of Richie’s bed and Richie feels it when the man starts to unbuckle the strap that’s keeping his head down. The skin just below feels damp and cold at suddenly being uncovered and Richie shivers.

“Why thank you, good sir. Think you can free my hands too while you’re at it?” The soldier shakes his head.

“Sorry kid. No can do… not yet anyway.” He turns away only to return with a glass of water, straw in place. He’s careful as he lines the straw to Richie’s dry lips. It’s an awkward angle cause it’s not like Richie can sit up with the way he’s still strapped down but he manages to wrap his lips around the straw and just starts sucking at the cool liquid rapidly. He barely pays attention to the fact that Rambo’s watching him, eyes assessing him while he continues to talk in that clipped but measured tone. “You and your brother caused quite the commotion and they’re not quite sure what to do with you two now.”

_That_ sounds fucking ominous. Richie nearly chokes as the water hits the back of his throat after a particularly hard suck.

He coughs and it hurts but clearly, the air can still fill his lungs so there’s that he supposes. The soldier merely pulls back the glass and waits for the coughing to subside.

“Where’s Mikey?” Richie decides it’s better to focus on that versus the “they” that don’t know what to do with the twins. He’s undecided regarding who would be worse for Mikey and his survival: the military being the “they” or Dr. Brenner and his minions. He wonders suddenly if they’re going to be seen like too big of a liability.

If you can’t control the monsters you create…

Rambo sits back in his chair, large calloused hands rolling the half empty glass absentmindedly. “You tried communicating with him yet?” Richie doesn’t answer. It’s a stupid question. “If he hasn’t been responding, it’s most likely cause they’re keeping him dosed up in the isolation room. No one wants their brains scrambled like that poor piece of shit.”

Richie frowns at that. “Android?” Is the question that comes out even though what he really wants to ask is, _Come Again_? And _What the fuck_? _What do you mean ‘brains scrambled_?’

“You really don’t know what your brother is capable of, do you?” Rambo mutters, eyes leaving Richie’s face. He’s apparently gathered whatever the fuck he was looking for and moves away, sitting back down. “That might play out in your favor in the end. Although kid,” Rambo looking at him dead in the eyes when he says the next thing. “If you ever try to escape again, your best shot to survive is in killing every soulless fuck in this place. Kindness is only going to get you killed in this world.”

… 

El is becoming a frequent visitor at the Wheeler household whether there is a need for a babysitter or not. It’s a bittersweet pain being in the house with all the photographs neatly showing every stage of Mike’s childhood. But it’s also, strangely, comforting. It reminds her to hold on whenever she feels the despair creeping up.

Holly’s presence plays a large part in that El supposes, as she watches the younger girl pulling out a book from a neatly organized bookshelf. There is no judgment when she’s with the younger girl. No need to be anything but herself, bonding over a shared sadness that goes unspoken.

She lets the little girl settle in her lap, aware that Nancy is looking over at them, clearly only half listening to whatever Will and Jonathan are talking about in hushed tones. It’s a silent check-in from the older girl. Nancy is typically home these days and sometimes she joins them. Other times though, she stays closer to her mother and helps in small tasks around the house, forcing conversation to fill the air and break the tense and awkward silence.

In the kitchen, there is the usual noise and welcoming smells of the home cooked dinner being put together. Mike had been right like he’d always been.

El loves Mrs. Wheeler’s cooking. Although she’s not sure that anything will ever truly beat her love of Eggo waffles.

She snuggles the little girl closer, careful as she helps open the larger book that Holly has chosen for their reading time tonight. It’s an old worn book titled _The Grateful Prince_ and El gets sucked into the tale of a prince switched at birth with a peasant girl so that the King, having made a deal with an old man, does not have to give his precious son away.

There are twists and turns to the story. A story that is filled with deception as well as forgiveness and love and, of course, it also has that very much sought out happy end with the prince marrying the peasant girl, making her his queen at the very end.

Holly is quiet throughout story time; thumb absently being sucked and at times even chewed upon in her mouth. When they come to the very end, Holly is the one to reverently flip the page over before closing the book.

“The end,” The little girl whispers, finally letting her one hand out of her mouth. “Another?” She asks sweetly and El tilts her head to the side, considering the question. The smell of dinner is more prominent in the air now and she wonders how much longer they have before they’re called to join the rest of the Wheeler family. She wonders if Hopper will actually arrive before dinner starts here. It’s rare but it happens. That or a call from Joyce asking them all to come home…

“Maybe we should check on how much time we have left before dinner…” She offers and the little girl slides off her lap and stands up, offering her hand in a gesture of ultimate trust. El accepts it, gently squeezing the small fingers before making their way over.

“Oh Ellie,” Mrs. Wheeler starts when she spots them just around the corner. “Holly. We’re just about ready here…Thank you so much for spending time with her, sweetie.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Wheeler.” She responds, tightening her hold for a second on the little girl’s hand. 

After all, these days, it’s the only thing she can do.

Tbc…

A/N – Next up is Mike’s pov. The pace is going to be picking up from here on out…My plan is to update with the next chapter this Thursday night. Also, I hope that everyone is staying safe and sound as best as they can. Please take care of yourselves and your loved ones. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike wakes up and comes face to face with an epiphany that simply doesn't bode well for *anyone* and Eddie, in Derry, can no longer handle calling Hawkins for updates (lack of them) on the search for the twins. Warning that this chapter does contain more explicit child abuse. Also, this is where the story very MUCH diverts course from ST and shows that I will not be integrating ST S3 into this story.

Chapter 20

Days 306, 307

Mike wakes up in complete darkness in the tiny punishment closet, the more formally known as isolation room. His head hurts and he’s still a bloody mess. He knows because of the way the blood is caked under his nose and chin and streaked across his cheeks. It pulls at his skin when he frowns. He tries to reach out to Richie mentally as he sits up gingerly, but the pain is so blinding that he finds himself back on his hands and knees.

Apparently, he’s over reached. Slowly, he moves himself into a curled position on the cold hard floor and waits… and waits… and waits…

And waits…

And waits…

He hurts from the lack of movement. He hurts from hunger. He still somewhat hurts from the cold but he’s starting to slowly grow physically numb. He’s also mentally and emotionally numb from the dark and the isolation. There’s a part of him that realizes that it’s the longest he’s ever been stuck here.

He knows that the appropriate response to that should be fear. But he can’t think enough to hold onto that emotion. It just flits in and out and he stays in a daze on the ground. His eyes remain closed as if this will help fight out the darkness and the slowly ticking time moving forward while he's slowly being forgotten and left to rot in here.

When there’s finally sound (_so loud and intrusive after so much silence_) on the other side of the door, Mike feels his muscles twitch and his eyes snap open. He tries to move. But Mike can barely stand he’s so weak with thirst and hunger. His eyes hurt at the light filling the space so suddenly and he closes his eyes fast and hard, hands coming to cover his face in a weak instinctual move to protect himself.

He feels hands grab at him and he’s dragged into another room, still trying to wrap his brain around what is happening. He cannot fight when the hands let him go and instead, he falls hard on the ground; his body carrying on with the forward momentum until it no longer can.

It’s a brief respite in some ways to be let go of despite the unforgiving floor because the hands are too quick to come back and start stripping him of the soiled clothes. They are not gentle. There are muttered curses and grumbles. As if it’s his fault.

And maybe it is.

He’s kicked by a booted foot hard on the side and it forces him to crawl up onto his hands and knees simply because he wants to get away. He _needs_ to get away. 

A hose is turned on and it’s not hot water. It’s not even tepid. Instead, it is an absolutely freezing spray that is pelting at him, drawing angry red welts on his pale skin. There are barked words being yelled at him.

Something about soap.

But he’s so thirsty and there’s water… water… he’s gulping it down, hands desperately trying to cup it, save it and allow for more than just drops to push past cracked and swollen lips.

Mike closes his eyes again and there’s relief against the bright artificial light. It doesn’t feel like he drinks enough before the hose is turned off but his stomach absolutely rebels at the onslaught and he finds himself heaving. The little he managed to ingest comes spilling back out.

There are curses at the vomiting and the hose is turned back on, briefly. Just long enough to wipe clean the water and bile from him and the floor and Mike realizes that he’s shivering so hard now that he can’t move from where he is. The men who are attending to him throw something at him from the end of the room, clearly not wanting to get any closer than they possibly have to. The thing that hits him is of a different texture than the cold harshness of the water.

It’s dry. It’s not entirely soft but it’s not rough either. And it’s long. Long enough that with fingers that feel thick and swollen and weak from lack of use and trembling cause he just… he can’t control it. He can’t get the shaking under his control… it takes him a few fumbling tries but he’s finally able to wrap the towel around himself.

It gives him the slightest relief from the bitter cold, absorbing the pearls of water still dripping from him.

More things get thrown at him and it takes him a moment before he realizes that it’s clothes, clean but getting wet from where they’ve fallen on the ground.

“Now George, Tanner… this is no way to treat Twelve.” Dr. Brenner’s voice is clear, calm, and polished as always. And it’s his face Mike sees clearly as warm hands cup his cheeks and forces him to look up. “Why don’t we get you to a place that’s more suited for conversation, hm?” As if he would have a choice in the matter. 

Dr. Brenner steps away from him though, and the two who’d been so gruff before are less so under the direct observation of their boss. They’re not gentle by far but it’s slightly more humane. Maybe. Mike can’t find it in himself to care honestly and he doesn’t have the strength to fight them off anyway as they dress him like one would dress a naughty child. 

The clothes are better than nothing against the chill of the air and he feels the trembling slowly abate. He’s not warm though and there are parts of the light fabric that are wet and uncomfortably sticking to his skin.

Dr. Brenner wraps a blanket around his shoulders along with one arm to guide him up to his feet and starts moving them forward. He’s apparently strong enough to half make up for Mike’s stumbling steps but the close contact is making Mike’s entire being crawl with dread and disgust. It’s not soon enough when they finally reach a small sparse looking room, furnished with the bare minimum- a table, two chairs sitting on opposite sides and a filing cabinet.

Mike still doesn’t have enough control of his limbs yet to slow the fall down to the chair and it hurts in a different way. Another bruise to mark his slowly warming body. He’s left blinking through that pain alone as Dr. Brenner steps out briefly and Mike is barely aware of the hushed garbled conversation that is taking place on the other side of the door.

Too soon, it’s just him and Dr. Brenner again with a steaming mug of something placed in the middle of the table between the two of them. The older man is silent, not sitting, just standing and observing Mike carefully. Assessing the teenager once more.

Mike stays still, hands holding on tightly to his arms in a sad imitation of a hug. It’s less about comfort and more to do with needing to stay grounded, to stay here and ride out the waves of nausea.

“We are at quite the impasse, you and I...” the words and the tone of voice forces Mike to look up. It’s... his head still hurts and he’s still feeling off but he’s aware enough to still sense the difference in the man. It’s subtle. Where Dr. Brenner is smooth and full of quiet passion and determination that leads him to make inhumane and unethical decisions, there is now a lack of any emotion in those eyes. There’s a glint of something that’s not quite human there looking right back at him. And despite the lack of emotion being reflected out of those eyes, it's not that there are no emotions being experienced within. There's hunger and excitement. But not the passion. It's more direct and cutting. 

Mike had noticed it before even at the very beginning of their captivity but now it’s just blatant. That feeling of strangeness. Of being alien. And the familiarity that went along with that feeling that had bugged Mike for so long finally clicks. The missing puzzle piece to explain the man’s bizarre behavior falling into place and Mike can only gape. 

Why... how had he missed this? 

“You...” It’s like it had been with Will. “... you’re not Dr. Brenner, are you?” It hurts to speak and his voice cracks at every word he is able to push out.

“Is it finally noticeable?” The man’s lips quirk up just slightly to one side. “How unfortunate.” There’s a shrug that seems out of character for Dr. Brenner's usually polished demeanor and reminds Mike more like a puppet whose puppet master quickly jerked a string too tightly forcing the motion. “But unavoidable I suppose. I’ve been wondering how long I had until you found me out. After all, you felt me fairly quickly when you had been much weaker all those months ago and ruined everything then.” 

“How...?” How is this possible? The Gate has been closed. The Mind Flayer gone behind the other side of the Gate and ...and Will has been free. No more episodes. No anything. Dr. Brenner hadn’t even been around then...so... how could the Mind Flayer be in Dr. Brenner? How could he be here? How could Mike have missed this? How could he have fucking missed this? Why hadn't it clicked before now? 

“Unimportant details...” the possessed man says as he sits slowly, large hands splaying out on the surface of the table. “He’s different than the boy. Its... uncomfortable here.” The words make Mike's nausea increase tenfold and he can't help the gagging noise that slips past his parched lips. Dr. Brenner's body doesn't react, the cold eyes simply watching as the creature waits for Mike to get himself back under control. "Now, now Twelve. We have things to discuss. Are you quite done?" 

Mike's not sure that there's anything besides yes that he can say and so he nods, biting his bottom lip hard. 

"I said before that you and I were at an impasse. This Dr. Brenner and his men, they're becoming frightened of you. They're realizing they can't quite control you like they were initially hoping... and because of this, you've become as they say... disposable. After all, they have the data they need to replicate the findings. All they need is someone more malleable and less headstrong." 

"Why are you telling me this?" The question comes out, pushing its way past the others that are all fighting inside his head. There's relief in a way that he's the one who's been identified as disposable and not Richie. Relief that his hare brained plan hadn't backfired on both of them. At least he hopes. He needs to hold on to that but at the same time... it's so hard to trust any word that's being stated out loud right now. He can't help but want to dissect every sentence for additional meaning. He wants more information and yet he can't trust any of it. 

"Because I have waited long enough..."

…

Eddie holds his breath like he often finds himself doing now when they make the calls to Hawkins. He waits, eyes dissecting every expression that flits across Bill’s face as his friend nods and stutters through his next question. He’s not hopeful that the news will be any different than it’s been the last handful of calls.

The truth is he knows it won’t be. They’ll get the same vague reassurance from Max or Dustin or even Lucas that Kali is still searching, that Chief Hopper is still searching but that there are no fucking new leads. He knows that Bill’s face will fall, just slightly, and that he’ll try and turn his face away from them for just a moment. Just one fucking moment because despite it not being new news, Bill still wants to protect them from his own hopelessness and give himself time to hold on to hope.

Eddie loves him a bit for it. He also hates him for it too.

Because Bill holding onto hope means that they have to as well. And Eddie’s not sure how much longer he can continue to sit through these calls. They’re heartbreaking. And they’re doing shit in bringing Richie back.

His lungs start to hurt and he releases a slow wheeze, hand coming to cup his lips to soften the sound. He feels Mike shift beside him, letting him know that he’s done a shitty job masking the noise. But Mike doesn’t do anything beyond simply offering Eddie his hand to hold.

The small gesture makes him look down for just a second. He knows that it would be kind to take Mike up on the comfort, just like its kindness pushing Mike to offer him that hand to hold onto but… Eddie stands up and without another word or look back, he walks out of Bill’s house. Fresh air hits his face and he sucks it in huge gasps of it at a time.

It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

He can’t go back inside and hear the same old song. He can’t go back and do that same old dance. That same old routine of hearing that same old used and abused list of platitudes. He can’t go back and play pretend that they’ll come up with the magical solution… the missing piece of the puzzle that’s been alluding them for months now. That just because summer is going to be around the fucking corner and they’ll have more freedom and more time to do their own search that they’ll find Richie. That they’ll find him whole and sound and be able to bring him home.

They’d failed epically with Georgie.

They’d failed again with Richie.

End of story. Game over.

It’s Stan that finds him curled up and rocking near the front steps, still struggling to breath normally and it’s Stan that gives him his inhaler. Stan doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t offer any words of comfort or of non-updates. He simply sits next to Eddie quietly for the longest times, light brown eyes looking into the distance.

When the other Losers start to make their way out of the house, it’s because it’s late now and they all need to make their way home. Eddie finds himself getting up, listless, because he has to. He shakes his head at the offer of sleeping over at Bill’s house. It’s not that he wants to go home. It’s just that he can’t be _here_ right now.

Maybe tomorrow he’ll be able to play pretend again. But right now he can’t.

He’s aware that Stan, Ben, and Mike bike out of their way to watch him make it home safely even if they don’t ride side by side with him, probably wary of him blowing up at them.

He doesn’t have the energy to get angry truth be told. He also doesn’t have the energy to tell them that it’s okay if they ride next to him. He won’t bite off their heads for doing so.

So he lets them ride behind him and doesn’t look back when he closes the door and dutifully greets his mother. He knows that they’ve stopped and they’re watching him go in. He knows. He doesn’t have to look back. He doesn’t have to see.

And their presence still doesn’t make it better. Only the peace of his allergy medicine does at this point.

Tbc...

A/N - Thanks for all the continued support as I work on updating the story. It means the world to me. I know this chapter is dark and sad but hope is coming, same with a lot of action. I plan to update again some time this weekend. I know world wide it's hard right now. So please continue to take care of yourself and others. Stay healthy. Stay safe. Sending everyone massive hugs. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Mike are brought back together and a new plan is in the works...

Chapter 21

Days 307, 308, 309

Richie isn’t sure when Rambo’s told that he’s been deemed ‘safe’ enough to remove all of the bindings. He knows the man left to take a ‘leak’ and then he’s back and nimble fingers are undoing the multiple clasps that had been keeping him down. Richie is struck with the way it feels to finally be able to move again, to have blood freely flowing in the way it’s supposed to in all of his appendages. He takes his time sitting up, wiggling his fingers and his toes before gingerly sliding off the bed and taking a couple steps around the room.

Rambo merely takes steps back from the bed until he can comfortably lean against the wall, face impassive.

“So what will it be, Rambo, good sir?” Richie asks in his best imitation of an English accent if only because he still can’t stand the silence. “The guillotine? The noose? Or a civilized dual?” The older man gives him what Richie supposes could pass for a smile. It’s more like a grimace.

“You got me, kid.”

“Can’t even tell me if this is a good sign?” It’s not a whine. He refuses to have it categorized as a whine.

“Heard from your brother yet?” The man responds instead of answering and Richie swallows hard. He hasn’t. Not yet. And it’s scaring him. He looks away from Rambo and focuses on moving. On getting the blood flowing again. He walks around in circles in the small room until his legs are screaming for a break but still, he loathes the idea of sitting down, especially not on the contraption he’d been strapped down on.

He merely stops moving in the middle of the room, scared to try reaching for Mikey again and hating the silence.

The absence.

It’s what feels like hours later that Richie is startled and yet relieved beyond belief when the door opens, and Mikey is unceremoniously pushed into the room. His twin does not look well but he's alive and Richie catches him into a hard hug just as Mikey's looking like he's not going to win the fight with gravity.

He holds onto him, ignoring the fact that Dr. Brenner is still in the room, watching them and smiling in a way that's always given him the creeps.

Stupid fucking white shark.

Richie sees from the corner of his eyes that Rambo has straightened up and is looking at Dr. Brenner as if he’s waiting for an order. If it comes, he misses it. But he could fucking care less cause Mikey’s alive and warm and breathing and back with him.

Mikey’s arms are trembling but they still make it around his shoulders to give a slight squeeze.

“Sorry…” is whispered out and Richie shakes his head. “I’m so sorry Richie…”

…

The twins aren’t brought back to their original room. But they’re not left where Richie had been staying before either. They’re moved into one of the isolation rooms but together.

It’s a tight space and dark yet to Richie, this is still the best he’s felt in days. Mikey’s alive. They haven’t been killed off in punishment for what they’d done. They’re back together. They’d even been graced by a bathroom break before being unceremoniously shoved back into the isolation room. Things as they say, are looking up.

Still, despite the relief giving him a giddy like energy, Richie doesn’t like the way Mikey is still so weak.

And quiet.

His twin had leaned on him hard the entire time and once the door had closed behind them, he’d simply let go of Richie to slide down to the floor. He’s still there, curled up, blanket still wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

He could be sleeping. But Richie doesn’t think he is. More likely he’s overthinking things, blaming himself for everything that’s gone wrong since humanity came to be…

Richie sighs loudly and kicks at the wall. Not hard. But enough to get Mikey’s attention with the noise that his foot makes when it slaps the cold and hard surface.

“Don’t go losing hope on me now, Mikey. We had a plan…”

It’s a long while before Mikey says softly, “We need a new plan.” _And I need to tell you._ The mental voice of his twin is like a raspy whisper in his mind. It sounds painful. It sounds exhausted. And hopeless. And Richie winces at hearing it. _Dr. Brenner, he’s not just Dr. Brenner…he’s… there’s a piece of the Mind Flayer in him, growing, and controlling him and he wants us to open the Gate. _

The raspy mental whisper dies after that and Mikey stays quiet despite Richie’s ass thumping down to the ground and his hissed urgings to not fucking stop there. Mikey can’t just fucking drop this shit on him and not share more. But it becomes clear pretty quickly that Mikey’s out cold and Richie realizes that when none of his words reach Mikey and his flimsy attempts to wake his brother do nothing. He must have overreached again. Mother fucker…

Richie breathes out a slow fuuuuuck that no one else can hear and stares out into the inky blackness of the room.

And he’d thought the Big thing had been them being kidnapped.

So much for it being their time to have a win.

…

Time passes slowly in the isolation room when you’re left to simply stew in your thoughts. It goes a bit faster when Mikey finally wakes up and food is delivered to them. Mikey’s mental voice gets stronger as more time passes, and more is (_fucking finally_) shared. Including how the small part of the monster from the Upside Down that had survived and was now Dr. Brenner (_oy!_) will be giving them _lessons_ on how to share their powers. Whatever the fuck that means. It leaves Richie seriously regretting having eaten before letting Mikey talk to him and update him.

He’s left eerily quiet, completely void of words, as he listens to his twin spell out a new plan.

He knows that he should try and fight it somehow. But he’s got nothing.

Nothing at all.

Tbc...

A/N - Short chapter but the next one coming is longer to make up for it. Thank you for all the continued support! 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's /the/ day... the day the new plan is put into action. Are you ready? Because the twins are...

Chapter 22

Day 320

In Derry, the Losers are outside. Their bikes, in various states of cleanliness, are all scattered along the side of the road. They make their way slowly through the trees, making sure not to trip on hidden roots under the leaves. They’re mostly quiet with Stanley looking and noting the different birds that have come back now that Winter is most definitely done and over with and Ben asking questions and answering them in the same breath about some assignment from Ms. Binn’s class. Mike at least appears to be listening while Eddie and Bill are clearly in their own world, lost in their thoughts.

None of them know that this day is different than others. Sadly, they won’t know why it’s different until several days later.

…

In Hawkins, the remaining Party members are inside the Byer’s home. They’re curled mostly together, television on but none of them tracking the show. There’s homework sprawled around them. Some of it finished, some of it glanced or scribbled on in a half assed sort of way.

The girls have their heads together, almost but not quite touching, as they scan some teen magazine that Max just _had_ to share with El. The noise of the pages turning is nearly lost in Dustin’s snort of derision at whatever he’d managed to read over their shoulders and before a fight can break out, Will is quick to make a little noise that’s meant to be a warning to Dustin and pacifying to Max. Lucas simply shakes his head, tapping the eraser of his pencil down on his open Math book.

It’s just another day. Another one to get through and cross off. Another one that El will keep track of and hold onto (_320 Days, 10 ½ months, nearly 46 weeks since the twins have been missing_) as she waits for something to change, for news to come to her from her sister.

At least, that’s how it starts off…

…

And where the twins are, it’s _the_ day. The one where the plan finally gets put into play. For better or for worse.

_ Are you sure?_ Richie thinks to his brother and sees Mikey give him a subtle nod. _Just… just be careful_. The little sardonic smile that answers his mental plea isn’t reassuring in the slightest but well… what the fuck. At least Mikey knows where he stands on the issue.

He sighs and let’s his brother concentrate.

_Count down will begin in three…_

They’re walked to the room with the sensory deprivation tanks, guns to their heads, just like Mikey had said they would be. The instructions are clear and simple. Mikey needs to make contact with a being from the Upside Down… any will do. And Richie, well Richie needs to be there to help open the Gate. Use his pyrokinetic abilities to open it wide and…and if they don’t fucking cooperate, it’s bullets to the brain and all the kids listed as backups being dragged in here to take their place.

Yadi yadi yada.

It’s not like the backup kids hadn’t already been in line to Hell with golden tickets sewn into invisible pockets. It’s just that if they didn’t do this… if they failed, that trip was going to go so much more quickly than planned. Although to be fair, if Mikey and he hadn’t pulled their stunt earlier and Android’s brains hadn’t been scrambled, those backups would already be here. (_Hold on to the fucking silver lining, hold on hard to that fucker_).

_Two…_

So Richie doesn’t balk, merely strips his clothes and tugs on the ridiculously tight and ugly 1920s garb and follows Mikey into the tank once his twin is done going through similar motions. _Is she here?_ The water is the same tepid temperature that it always is and the darkness of the tank seems to swallow them both up so quickly. Even squinting, he can’t see his twin anymore despite him knowing that they’re nearly nose-to-nose. Their fingers gently brush against one another before Mikey answers.

_She’s coming…don’t you worry._

But he is worried. He is _very_ worried. It’s only recently that Mikey’s been able to tap into Richie’s reserves for extra strength or to push his own reserves onto Richie (_not quite the sharing of powers he’d initially envisioned but whatever, it worked_). And he’s heard about the big bad on the other side and he’s not really sure he wants to open the Gate and let that freak of nature back onto their side of things.

He knows Mikey’s desperate. Hell they both are. But he’s starting to wonder if taking that bullet the to head isn’t the better option after all.

What if Ellie Belle can’t close the Gate this time around? Then what…? Still, he knows. It’s their one shot. Their one hope. He just hopes it doesn’t doom them all anyway.

_One._

…

Kali is irritable. She’s been nursing a headache for the past week now and she simply needs it to go away. It had simply crept up on her one night and since then refused to go away. It was like a constant tension, a push to move forward, to listen. But how the hell did that make any sense?

Still, it’s only when she’s up and about and doing _something_ that the headache lessens. She feels the most relief when she’s actively searching for Dr. Brenner. When she’d put _that_ together three days earlier, she’d scowled and had stubbornly stopped. It feels like a manipulation. Like a trap.

But that doesn’t make sense either. And the headache comes back with a vengeance and it’s a fucking nightmare.

If the headache wasn’t enough, then comes an actual dream. It’s vivid and detailed and provides her a guided map to an old decrepit farmhouse. It’s what is under the farmhouse that’s interesting. It’s like an anthill, bustling with life but instead of ants – it’s white lab coats and military men. More lab coats then military men but still. The fact that both are present makes a chill run through her despite still being asleep. And there are rooms upon rooms in a giant underground maze.

There’s a voice calling to her in this dream. It’s young-ish and polite but also a bit desperate sounding. The voice that’s calling her is telling her that Dr. Brenner is here. To come before it’s too late. That she may miss her chance.

She wishes she could shoot that voice… shoot that dream in the back of the head and let it rot in hell where it belongs. Maybe then the headache would leave and the dreams would stop plaguing her.

Funshine is no help. He puts into words the one thought that she doesn’t want to be true. What if it’s Jane’s boys? What if they’ve been turned into monsters like her and Jane and now they’re luring her back. A trap? Or asking her for help to be freed?

Either way, it’s gonna be a fucking mess.

So yes, she’s irritable. She’s also fucking tired.

But she’s not the slightest surprised when the directions she gives Mick bring them exactly to that decrepit farm of her dreams. She simply sighs and asks the rest of her gang as to whether their guns are loaded and ready to go.

Mick will stay in the car, engine running but to be honest, Kali thinks her friend should get ready for them to never return. When she hops out of the car, she doesn’t turn back to say goodbye even though she thinks it.

She doesn’t think she’ll make it out of here alive. And she’s trying to make peace with the thought that she’s bringing her gang to die with her. She’s not sure she’ll be able to do so in the next handful of minutes.

…

Mike closes his eyes. He’s waiting on her. He needs her to be here and do her part before he can do the next bit. If she doesn’t come… the entire plan will be thrown out the door. They’d be on their own and that just really isn’t ideal.

He reaches out into the Void to see if he can find her. It doesn’t take long for the Void to snap into place around him and he can’t help but smile just a little when he sees her take form in the Void.

She’s older than the picture Dr. Brenner had in the file for Eight. But she’s still recognizable. She’s walking confidently in what may seem like it’s towards him but she doesn’t actually see him in the Void. He lets her walk through him, simply turning to watch her fade from the Void.

She’s here.

Now he just has to wait.

The minutes pass and all remain quiets in and outside the sensory deprivation tank. Mike concentrates on keeping his breathing calm and quiet. He knows that the sensors are picking up on him being in the Void and it’s the only reason they aren’t pulling him out and demanding why there’s not more that is happening in this very moment.

They don’t know that he’s waiting. He’s waiting for something very particular to happen so that he can finally be _free_ and unimpeded to reach out to El.

…

Kali wipes the trickle of blood from under her nose with the back of her hand. She’s already had to make several groups believe that there were no intruders passing right by them. That they hadn’t seen Dottie with her big teased out hair and mask on backwards giggling ahead, blowing them kisses. Nor had they seen Funshine’s assured confident gait passing them by, or Axel’s long strung out shape.

All they would continue to see is what they expected to see. The white walls, their other co-workers…

It seems unreal at how easy this is. Everything that she’d seen in her dreams is panning out to be true. And it’s just… too simple. It puts her on edge and she feels how her fingers tighten around the gun. The tension is little comfort to her though.

All too soon, they round a corner and her breath stays stuck in her throat when she _finally_ sees _him_. How long has she been planning for this moment? Too fucking long. And now it’s here. He doesn’t need to turn around for her to recognize him. His posture, his hair despite it being more white now than pepper gray like she remembered… even the self-assured, bordering on cocky, vibes that just seem to emanate from the man.

His attention is fully focused on the tank in front of him, only half listening to someone who is reading off print outs of _something…_

Kali can feel the hand that’s holding onto the gun raise, fingers flicking the protection off.

“Papa…” She says quietly, needing him to _see_ her. To know in his final moments that she had found him and that she would end him. She waits just long enough for that moment of recognition to light those cold eyes before she pulls the trigger.

…

_ Zero._

…

Richie feels Mikey’s fingers tense against his in a grasp that fucking _hurts._ Fucking hell… he hopes it’s a good sign or else he’s gonna have fucking broken bones for nothing and that’ll piss him off.

He can’t think too long on the pain though when he starts to hear mad chaos outside of the deprivation tank. And it has to be fucking bad for him to hear in a space that should have been blocking EVERYTHING out. He grips Mikey’s hand back and then the whole world starts to rumble, he feels the water splashing around them, his body forced to sway with each violent roll of the ground.

He _hears_ Mikey then. Hears him and feels him pulling at him and …

It’s the first time he’s in the Void. It’s fucking creepy as all get out. Black and wet and just… it’s a weird nothingness and everything-ness and he just doesn’t like it one bit. Not at all. Especially when he sees something that makes his hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt all over his body that he isn’t even fucking sure is _here_ in the first place.

This creature is a weird muddied brown grey-green color, elongated in a way that clearly marks it as non-human and yet there’s something about it that is in fact human like. The head looks like that fucking plant from the Little Shop of Horrors (_and yes, fuck you, Richie did know about that bloody, weird ass old musical. He would _never _forgive Stan the Man for making him watch that horror-ish noir comedy that one Halloween night. It had given him nightmares that he couldn’t EVER share with anyone because how do you explain a sudden fear of man-eating alien plants? Like what the fuck dude? Stan the Man could be such a little shit…)_ and Richie is this _close_ to shitting in his pants at the sight of that teeth lined face. Because that’s really all he sees.

Teeth and drool and petals?

What the fuckity fuck nightmare is this…

And why the fucking fuck is his dipshit of a brother doing, walking closer to that monster?

The rumbling around him gets more violent, nearly knocking him off his feet and onto his ass.

_Mikey!_ He starts. _Mikey… no! _But it’s too late, he sees Mikey’s stubborn bitchy face and how his hand reaches out to touch that fucking _thing_. And his brother really is the worst asshat he’s ever known and then the world just fucking breaks and Richie thinks _ah… _

_ So this is the breaking of the Gate. And if this is the Mind Flayer…_

They are fucking screwed. Because this dude? This is so much worse than the man eating plant _thing_. 

Tbc...

A/N - Hope you're all hanging strong. I know during this time, especially if you're in a place where there's a stay-in or full blown quarantine policy, it can be tough to find a new normal. I'm still trying to find one but take comfort in connecting with new technology platforms and as always in daydreaming. Know that you're all in my thoughts and hope you're all staying safe and sound. Enjoy the new chappie. :) I'll try and post again sometime this weekend. 


	23. 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contact is made...

Chapter 23

Day 320

_The Upside Down snapping into place around him is like someone turning off a light. One second he’s in the real world, his world, and the next second, he’s not. He feels himself stiffen in surprise and more than a little bit of fear at the sudden change. The way the air feels off, the way it’s cold and the little pieces of _something_ keep floating on around him. The way the sound is even off. Muffled, as if the Upside Down was under water or a tunnel deep underground. He can hear the calls of Demodogs in the distance and the sounds make the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand on end. At least, he knows what the sounds mean this time. Although he’s not sure that’s a comfort…_

_ The most eerie part of the Upside Down though is the reflection of his own world but without any of the people, without any sense of life beyond the Demodogs and the pieces of what seems to be decay rising up all around him. _

_ He’d just been with the Party, reviewing homework in his living room, and now… He’s still in his living room. But the rest of them aren’t here with him. _

_ He feels the pull to walk to the front door and open it. It’s a dangerous sort of déjà vu because he’s already lived it. He’s just a little over a year older now since making this walk and opening the door to see the Mind Flayer just waiting there for him. The steps are slow but he takes them anyway, knowing what he’ll see and hating the knowledge. The sight before him when he does open the door isn’t surprising but it’s still hellish. _

_ Will tries to close his eyes to tell himself that it’s a dream. It’s a nightmare more like. Because the Upside Down can’t be real. It can’t be happening again because the Gate is closed. It’s been closed and he’s been safe. But closing his eyes doesn’t make the air quality change. Nor does it hide the way the sky here is rumbling and lighting up with that ominous red lightning once again. It’s so piercing that he can see it despite the way his eyes are still shut tight. _

_ The ground is moving beneath his feet. At first like a soft tremble, barely noticeable but then it’s a hard shake that brings him nearly to his knees. _That_ part is new. And it doesn’t bode well. _

_ He can feel the presence of the Mind Flayer reach for him again. It’s building and gaining strength and… _

_ “Will!” His eyes snap open at the sound of Mike’s voice calling his name. There are hands suddenly trapping his face and all he can see is Mike’s pale face and his concerned eyes boring into his. “Will! Keep looking at me, just me…” Will nods because it’s the only thing he can do. He can’t speak. He’s too scared or was too scared. Now he’s also feeling the tight constriction of his throat muscles because it’s nearly been a year since he’s seen his friend and… “Will, I won’t let the Mind Flayer get to you. I promise. I _will_ keep you safe.” The words are rushed but determined and keep him from taking in all the changes that a year has had on Mike. “You’re not in the Upside Down Will…not really. Your body is in _our _world. It’s the Mind Flayer calling you to this plane, the In Between…but you don’t have to listen to him. You don’t…” _

_ Except that the sound of the Mind Flayer and its overall presence is growing. The brewing storm that comes with the creature is starting to overwhelm his senses and everything all around them. _

_ “Just listen… really listen.” Mike’s hands are still pinning his face, not allowing him to look around and see where the Mind Flayer actually is. “You’ll hear El…you’ll hear Lucas and Dustin and Max. They’re calling you… follow their voices. I’ll do the rest.”_

_ “Mikey!” Richie’s voice is less clear than Mike’s but Will can hear him even if he can’t see him. It’s desperate sounding and Mike quickly looks behind him before once again turning his full attention back to Will. “We have to go! I need you…” _

_ “Will. Trust me. Listen.” And Mike gives him a shove that causes him to stumble…_and he’s back in the real world. But there’s a sense like his friend is still with him, surrounding him actually and there’s a whisper still ringing in his ear. _We’re coming. Just hang on._

Will trembles where he stands, eyes wide and prickling, his lungs choking on the regular air yet feeling more settled than he has in months. He can’t help but look at El and she nods, confirming his unvoiced question. She looks tearful herself yet determined.

“I heard him too.” Her voice cracks. “He said to protect you.”

“What?! What’s going on?” Dustin asks, tone bewildered and just a little scared. “Will, are you okay? You were having a fit. An episode, like…”

“Like before…” Will finishes for him quietly. “But I’m okay…Mike… Mike and Richie… I heard them. Mike… Mike pushed me back.”

“…what?” Lucas and Max are holding onto each and they say the word slowly, together.

“Mike… they’re coming back.” And that’s really all he has time to say when the entire world seems to rock on its axis. There’s a grumbling that surrounds them and the world just starts to shake, making all of them lose their balance in some way. Lucas and El remain standing with their arms stretched out in front of them while Dustin falls to his ass and curses, hands coming to cover his head as some of the lighter decorations around them get knocked to the ground. Max is on her hands and knees crawling towards the nearest table and yelling at all of them to do the same. Something about an earthquake and how you need to drop, cover, and hold on.

Will knows it’s not an earthquake. Or not one naturally caused but as his knees bang to the ground, he realizes now is _not_ the time to debate this. He goes to follow Max after briefly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in and letting it out.

_Please be careful, Mike._

…

Richie thinks they’re fucking lucky to be alive right about now. He’s still not entirely sure how they made it out, not sure how they’re still breathing but the world around them is still way too fucked up to think he’s died and gone to heaven. And well, he guesses that he could _hurt_ this much and be in Hell. That would be weirdly fitting he supposes.

But he feels a bit too _alive_ to be dead and burning in the fiery pits down under. He’s not even sure he believes in that shit anyway and so, he tries to convince himself that yes, they are lucky. Because they are alive.

For how long? He’s not entirely sure.

All he knows is that he’s managed to get Mikey and him out of the stupid water tanks of salty doom and Eight, just like Mikey had promised, is there along with a _really_ fucking alarming group of … masked teenagers? Adults? Richie knows he’s really not in a position to judge but really?

Those cheap ass Halloween masks are creepy as all fucking get out.

And he _knows_ creepy. He also knows cheap. With or without his glasses to give him the gory details.

There are guns firing and those fucking plant monsters shrieking and running out of the gaping hole that he supposes can pass for a Gate between dimensions. There are also other creatures, but they move too quickly, and he can’t fucking see the details without his glasses. Really, everything around him is one BIG ASS fucking blur.

He just recognizes the plant monsters because after seeing the one in the Void (_and wasn’t it fucking ironic that he could see, vision 20/20 in the fucking Void? What the fucking hell was that about anyway?_) – they have a specific feel to them, a specific elongated shape and weird ass movements that he’ll never be able to forget or erase from his memory. 

There are also dark plumes of smoke like bloody gigantic octopus or spider arms forcing the Gate open further and it’s like whatever _it_ touches seems to kill or pollute that area. There’s black ooze and floating shit and Richie wants to hold his breath before letting whatever that fuck is get inside of him.

(_If he could spare a thought, he’d think of Eddie and the million diseases the kid would be able to list as to what this fucking thing could bring him but he can’t think, he can barely breathe properly…and they were lucky right? Lucky to be alive? That silver lining was disappearing pretty fucking fast!_)

He’s barely able to keep a hold of Mikey who is literally dead weight in his arms at this point. He knows Mikey’s in the In Between, knows that he’s trying to stay in contact with Doe Eyes and Ellie-Belle and protect them from the Mind Flayer but holy shit if the smokey thing is the Mind Flayer…

Eight is yelling at him to get his ass moving unless he wants his sorry ass to stay here and he can just blink at her blurry shape for a moment. She knows his name. Their names. She’s calling him Richie and Mike. And it’s weird to hear his name coming from someone’s mouth that’s not Mikey.

He’s not sure which masked freak slams his glasses back on his face but he’s grateful for it, despite that the person was really not at all gentle with the move.

“Fucking ow, you asshole.” Richie grits before jerking his brother into a better hold and starting to drag him away from this mayhem. If creatures or the worst pieces of shit in human history come close to him or Mikey, Richie lights them on fire. The screams should bother him.

But maybe Dr. Brenner and Android and Rambo trained him a little _too_ well. He doesn’t give a fuck at the moment. Even feels a certain touch of pride.

That’s right, take that, lab coat number 5. Go fuck yourself, you fuckers and may you rot in hell.

… 

Another demodog gets its neck snapped as it’s sent flying into the wall. It’s the fourth already and they can hear more coming. El isn’t sure just how many more she can take on without at least a small respite. Even if it’s just an hour to eat or… or anything really…

She wishes Hopper was here but she knows that he’s on the other side of town and she fears for him. Guns have never been shown to be truly helpful in dealing with these creatures. Still, it had at least slowed them down in the past. And maybe he’ll be able to slow them down just enough for him to come _home_. She needs him here. She needs him to be safe. She needs him to keep the others safe. She needs him to know what they know. Why they’re fighting so hard…

Why this is even happening again in the first place…(_Not that she knows anything really beyond that it _must_ have to deal with the fact that Mike had reached out to her. He’d found her in the Void, pulled her there actually, so briefly, so fleetingly that if she hadn’t seen the way Will had responded to also having heard him, she would have thought she’d dreamt the short interaction altogether. But she hadn’t. And she needed to hold onto the fact that Mike was alive and was coming. He was coming home. And she needed to make it safe for him to do so.)_

The rest of the Party members are trying to be helpful. The barricade that was initially and hastily thrown together in front of the door following the _earthquake_ has long been destroyed but the wood that was nailed across the windows are still there and holding strong which at least limits where the demodogs can come through. It’s just not enough. Not in the long run. They seem endless. As if the in the months that the Gate was closed between their world and the Upside Down, the only thing they’d done was multiply and get ready for an invasion.

Lucas is still trying to wield his homemade fire torch but at times it’s more of a danger to them then a help because he doesn’t quite yet have a way of hitting his target without getting too close and he’d made El panic more than once when he’d tried to tango with the first couple demodogs that had managed their way in. Max and Dustin have been working on creating more nail bats and Will… El glances at him briefly.

She wants to cry at the sight of him. His eyes are closed and his brows are furrowed in concentration. His hair is damp and she can see certain beads of sweat just rolling down around the contours of his face. He’s so pale…

She knows that he’s trying his best to not get pulled to the In Between, to not get snared by the Mind Flayer. Knows that the way he’s been doing it is probably _not_ what Mike had wanted for him and that she’s failing all of them but she can’t give more than she already is and that’s already barely enough in keeping the demodogs at bay.

If she were to concentrate more on Will, to protect him like Mike had asked, then…

“I’m fine…” Will’s voice is barely over a whisper. “Don’t worry about me…” El nods and pulls her eyes away from him but it’s not fast enough to miss how he moves the knife and simply pushes the blade deep into another portion of his hand.

But maybe it’s a good thing that she doesn’t miss seeing it this time. That she’s able to take the way his breath hitches with pain and the way the blood looks as it drips down. Because it makes her so unbelievably _angry_ that they’re back in this position, dealing with Hawkin Lab’s mess and Papa once again. The yell that leaves her is just a flicker compared to the surge of power that runs through her. The demodogs that had been approaching the house all just fall in place, hearts stopped.

She _will_ keep her friends safe.

Promise.

…

To Kali, the rush of adrenaline and fight for survival keeps the reality at bay. It’ll take hours, maybe even days for the realization to hit that Papa is dead and gone. Her mission has finally been accomplished.

Right now, intellectually she knows that she’s finished the man off. But emotionally? It’s a whole different ball game and she doesn’t have the time to play. She manages, barely, to get them out of the underground maze and back up to the van. She knows she’s a bloody mess and she also knows that if it weren’t for that one twin, she and her gang would probably not be where they are now. Back in the confines of the roaring van, speeding the fuck out of that place.

She squeezes Mick’s shoulder briefly, telling her friend to get them to El’s before wiping her nose in one quick and abrupt gesture. It’s about an hour away… maybe less, maybe more depending on how quickly they can haul ass. She glances back behind her and sees that Dottie is taking care of Axel, putting pressure on his arm that had been briefly but intensely chewed upon by that _thing _before the creature had erupted into flames. Funshine is still tense, alert, gun cocked and on the ready as he keeps an eye on the window to see what the hell is going down.

The twins though… the twins… is where Kali’s attention finally falls. One is still passed out, being propped in a sitting position by the other. They’re both wet still, faces bloodied and she has the inane thought that she doesn’t have enough strength to have them pass as normally clothed teenagers. And right now what they’re wearing is not going to go unnoticed.

She hisses an expletive under her breath and fumbles over the front seat to get into the back of the van. She manages to stay upright despite Mick making a wildly crazy swerve that makes everyone else move with the motion. Kali curses again but gets her hands on the duffle bag that’s filled with a bunch of their clothes. None of them will fit properly but it’ll be better than the wet bathing suits they currently have on.

“You,” She snaps and the conscious twin turns to her, magnified brown eyes blinking at her owlishly. “Get out of those wet clothes and get dressed before you fucking die of a cold.”

“Moi?” The teenager has a weird smile that pulls at his lips. “I doubt a cold is what’s going to off me, but sure…I can change if it makes you all more comfortable.” The following grin is slightly manic while the teasing, flirty tone is filled with a bite to it. 

She’s not sure why she suddenly goes cold all over as the kid complies without any further discussion, moving completely on automatic. But when she glances at the rest of the gang, she notices that they all seem tense and uncomfortable at the way the teenager doesn’t seem to care or notice that they’re there and can fucking see him, stripping and changing into the dry clothes without a fucking care in the world. He doesn’t seem to pay attention to them at all as he starts to strip his brother and change him as well.

It’s like he’s forgotten that anyone could see _him…_them. And Kali feels a little ill as she remembers a similar feeling long gone and dusty from lack of retrieval from the darker corners of her brain. She remembers suddenly what it was like, only being seen when you performed _tricks _and being completely invisible beyond those few precious moments. Maybe not invisible but more like an object and not a human. She’s not sure what was worse.

It hits her like running into a brick wall that memory of a _feeling_ and she has to turn away, rolling a window down before throwing up in one quick and violent motion. She hopes her vomit hits some of the monsters along the way…

That would at least be somewhat a poetic justice. Right?

…

Hours have passed and though there have been pauses between attacks, they haven’t been restful or relaxing. The Party have remained stuck where they are and on alert, nail bats swinging and at times, simply scrambling to try and recreate a barrage to keep the _damn_ things out. They’re running out of things to bar the door with and honestly, it doesn’t always matter because demodogs can walk through walls. Just like the current one that’s making the wooden structure around them suddenly look like silly putty.

El feels weak in the knees and her head aches. Her vision blurs for just a second and the demodog that had managed to pass by her suddenly erupts into flames and howls before blending right back into the wall it had come from and disappearing altogether. All of them still, stuck in what just happened, trying to make sense of it and…

“What the fuck did that…?” Max asks for them all and El can only shake her head. She doesn’t know. Just knows that it wasn’t her.

“Hey Nerds, miss us?” Richie’s voice is rough, lower than any of the Party members remember it to be but it’s clearly him. He’s at the doorframe (_what’s left of it_), hair cropped short, taller, thinner and paler than they’ve ever seen him and wearing what looks like oversized black clothes. His feet are bare though. His face is one bloody mess and there’s someone he’s carrying on his back. Beside him are Kali and Funshine also looking a bit worse for wear.

“…no _fucking_ way…” Dustin is the one who speaks first and surprises all of them by being able to also move first. The curly haired boy grabs the lanky teen in a hug that ends up pulling both of them further into the house. “You’re _alive_ and _fuck, fuck, FUCK_… what’s wrong with Mike?!” The cheer turns to panic. The hug doesn’t last long as Dustin recoils, realizing that the person that’s barely conscious and on Richie’s back is indeed Mike. El feels weak at hearing the words.

There’s a tunnel vision and she just can’t _see_ well enough to get a sense of whether Dustin’s panic is warranted or not. She _can’t_ lose Mike when she hadn’t even had a chance to get him _back_. No! All of this is too much for El to process. She can’t even make sense of the fact that her sister is with the twins and now here. They’re all here and why can’t someone just tell her that Mike’s okay. Someone please…

“…he’s fine… he’s just…” Richie sounds exhausted suddenly, wide smile slowly withering off his face completely. His large brown eyes glance over his shoulder briefly before looking at the group again. He hefts the weight of his brother on his back gently. “…playing hero and multitasking as always…in the _In Between, _shielding cutie pie and princess from the Mind Flayer, and acting as my battery pack.” Richie winces as Kali steps up from behind and moves in such a way to force him to continue forward.

“Not that this is isn’t a heartwarming reunion and all that,” Her voice hasn’t changed. It’s still dark and edgy with just the slightest hint of a British accent. “But we’re running out of time and we’re all going to be useless if we don’t get some rest…”

“Running out of time to do what…?” Dustin asks while El starts to breathe again, heart slamming painfully against her rib cage. She watches as her curly haired friend moves to brace Richie who is starting to sway just a smidgeon.

“…to close the gate to hell these idiots managed to open.”

“Hey,” Richie mutters, tone only slightly defensive. “We were lacking in other options, ok? Not like we knew you and the fucking Carebears were on your way to save the day…”

“Let him go, Richie.” Lucas mutters. “It’s okay, we got him…we got you…” And Dustin is saying the same thing, hands on the lanky teen’s shoulders.

El isn’t sure what exactly frees her from where she’s been standing frozen. Maybe it’s seeing as Richie’s muscles relax and the limp form that he’s been holding simply slides off into Lucas’ waiting arms. Maybe it’s the way Will just jolts from where he’s been and goes to help the three, mindless of the bloody handprint he’s leaving on Mike’s bare arm.

All she knows is that she’s suddenly in there with them and her hands are on him and he’s warm and _alive_ despite his eyes staying shut, wildly moving behind his lids.

It’s a bit of a mess but they manage to get them in Will’s bed and Richie’s complaining dies to nothing when Will finally just firmly presses his bad hand to his mouth. He’s quiet for a heartbeat before he’s wrenching the hand away to inspect it, looking horrified and concerned all at once.

But El’s not listening or watching as she’s kneeling next to where Mike is, hands wiping at his face and whispering at him that _he’s home_ and _please, please, please_…

“Let them have their moment.” Kali mutters, taking Lucas and Dustin with her. “We need food and water.”

Dustin nods and goes to gather what he can, not questioning El’s older sister taking over the chain of command. He doesn’t quite trust her. There’s still something off putting about her but right now he can’t even think and it’s a relief to have someone telling him what to do. Plus he’s fucking downright _grateful_. She’d kept her promise to El after all. She’d brought the twins back. How? He has no idea. But the twins are here. And that’s really where all his brain power is stuck on. They have them back. They can worry about everything else later.

Lucas clearly is still able to think though because he’s gazing worriedly at the broken door and instead of moving to help Dustin with food, he’s calling out to Funshine and the rest of Kali’s gang (_now suddenly out of the van and inside the Byer’s home_) to help him move the couch and start barricading the place back up for about the billionth time.

Kali seems to think it’s a good enough idea because she doesn’t stop them and even nods when Funshine looks at her questioningly. Axel groans as Mick and Dottie help get him settle onto the couch. Kali must hear it because she doesn’t just grab food and water, she also shoves the nearest first aid kit she sees in Dustin’s arms and her steps are definitely hurried as she goes back to where everyone else is.

She waves Dottie away, motioning for the girl to help Dustin divide the food before kneeling in front of Axel. “Let me look at it.” She mutters, more of a command than anything else as her hands does quick work of the blood-soaked bandage. Mick stays by her side, ready to give the supplies from the first aid kit that has been left open by her feet. It’s when Kali is about to remove the last layer of the bandage that Axel’s muffled groans of pain start to hit another pitch. Kali raises her hand to his forehead with a look of fierce concentration. “Sleep.” The noise stops and the man collapses in a deep sleep in front of her. The movement rips the bandage free from the arm and she moves quickly to put pressure back on the wound.

Mick swears but Kali can’t concentrate on her friend. She can only focus on what’s in front of her.

Around her, the world continues moving forward, just like Axel keeps bleeding and outside, the Gate remains glaringly open, with more and more monsters crawling out of its abyss and running free into their world.

But one problem at a time…

One problem at one fucking time.

Tbc...

A/N - You all are wonderful and amazing in your support! Thank you, thank you all! Hope you're all staying safe and sound! <3


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the Final Battle aka "The Closing of the Gate Take Two” begin...

Chapter 24

Mikey is awake and pale, a taut tightness running through his entire frame as he stays sitting on the bed propped up by several pillows while everyone plans out “The Closing of the Gate Take Two”. Richie knows his twin isn’t all there. He’s still multi-tasking and he’s torn about that because he knows Mikey can’t keep this up for much longer. He also knows that Mikey’s not about to risk Doe Eyes and Ellie Belle further than they already have. Yet, the key to their plan working relies heavily on their ability to maintain as much of their energy as they can for_ the_ Final Battle (_and man didn’t that sound nerdy as all get out_).

He can’t feel the In Between like Mikey does. He’s only seen the Void the once (_and hopefully never again, thank you fucking very much)_. When Mikey “_talks_” to him – it’s simply a voice in his head. But he had seen the Mind Flayer when the Gate had started to become undone between their joint forces. He’d felt it’s fury and triumph and seen how it had immediately lashed out, sending violent dark plumes of God knows what the fuck it was made up of out here, forcing the Gate open wider in a very violent and earth shaking way…(_fucking literally_)…

Knowing that Doe Eyes had been possessed by that thing once and was now vulnerable to it _again…_

Richie grips the boy’s hand tightly. The good one, the one that he hadn’t slashed open multiple times over. Doe Eyes makes a little surprised noise at the grip but gives Richie’s fingers a good squeeze back.

It’s just… he gets why Mikey’s multitasking if it means keeping him safe from that.

It feels a bit unreal being in the Byer’s home, surrounded by the Party members and Kali’s gang. Not just seeing them all, but hearing them, and fucking hell, being able to touch them. Dusty’s hard hug and know-it-all voice arguing fearlessly back and forth with Kali about what’s realistic vs. not when dealing with the Mind Flayer. Stalker’s strength when he’d taken Mikey from his back and his self-assured voice currently chiming here and now, not quite to play peace maker and clearly not taking sides, but more trying to get the group to keep moving towards the main goal: shutting down of the Gate. It’s deeper than he remembers it to be. All of their voices have shifted since they’ve been gone. Just like they’ve all grown. Clearly teens now, no longer children.

Richie glances at Red and sees her determined expression and it makes him want to cry just a bit. Just like the way Ellie Belle stays next to his brother, brown eyes full of love as well as fury. Richie had shared a brief (_very edited and clean_) summary of what has happened before the planning of what needs to be done had taken over.

The moment feels so fucking real and yet it feels like it can’t be. He’s simply dreamt of this for so long. How can it actually be happening now? Finally?

Doe Eyes leans into him briefly, giving his fingers another squeeze, and it forces Richie to take one long breath in. He can’t get lost in this moment. No matter how much he wants to.

He can just take it in, knowing it’s probably going to be their last moment, all together like this.

When Mikey’s voice finally joins the fray, Richie’s heart sinks. He knows it’s all part of the plan. Knows that it was always going to happen, but he still hates it when the news is revealed. Everyone shuts up and turns to look at Doe Eyes who stills besides him. Richie closes his eyes.

“Will’s targeted by the Mind Flayer, not because he’s a past host, but because he’s a Sensitive. He’s one of us, just … untapped potential. The Mind Flayer didn’t take into account that we could get loose, that we could reach him before he could. That we could protect him… or that what he taught Richie and I, we could use against him. We can tap into Will’s potential now, just like the Mind Flayer.” Mikey pauses and looks at his oldest friend. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

…

It takes them some time but not too much, before the final plan is agreed upon and put in place, the group no wiser to the gentle nudges and mental manipulations happening along the way. They all move as one as they make their way to the van and pile in there.

And then the van is flying down the road at a breakneck speed and no one speaks a word as they watch the scenery around pass in a darkening blur. The closer they get to where the twins had been held, the worse it looks. It’s not like last time, where the underground tunnels had taken months to be dug out by the decaying roots of the Upside Down winding down and poisoning their world bit by bit. It’s not the subtle take over like it had been. It’s an all-out attack now. Just like Kali and the twins had shared.

And it’s not just the Mind Flayer, the roots, and the demodogs that seem to have been let loose on their world either. There’s other beings but Dustin can never get a good enough look at them as they pass them by to come up with any sort of name or theory as to what they can and will do. All he does know is that they’re horribly outnumbered and he’s not sure how their weak ass plan will play out. If this were a D&D game, they’d need a fucking high roll of the dice to have an _attack_ play out successfully and he’s just not sure about their chances. Really not sure. So he just shivers where he sits, baseball cap crushed between his hands.

Beside him, Lucas is rolling around the modified baseball bat between his fingers. The wood is smooth and cool to the touch and he prefers to focus on that and his breathing then to look outside. It also helps to focus on the comforting heat that comes from being squished between his two favorite people, Max and Dustin. It helps too to know that the Party is finally complete again. Whole again. And that yeah, Mike may look like shit right now, but his voice had been strong and self-assured, and Lucas _trusts_ him. Trusts in the plan.

Max can’t help but watch the darkened scenery that passes by. She needs to know what to expect even though it’s nothing that she can make sense of or completely understand. She wonders how many people have already been lost to the attack and she shudders at the morbid thought. She’s a realist. There’s no way that others haven’t gotten hurt or killed yet. There’s no way this is going to be something so easily brushed “under the rug” like the mayor of Hawkins has been able to do every other time.

And that’s if they _win_. Whatever the hell that means beyond getting the Gate closed.

Her eyes get tugged away from the windows in order to look at the other side of the van.

Mike and Richie look so different. Taller and thinner and paler. She can’t get over their shaved heads but more than that, there’s something about the way they hold themselves and an expression in their eyes that tells her more clearly than any other physical change that they’ve seen and gone through some bad shit. Currently, the twins are sitting side by side; Mike’s eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration.

Richie’s head is leaning in such a way that the brothers’ heads are connected but his eyes are wide open. There’s no smile on his face and no teasing words coming out to make anyone laugh or groan in despair. Instead, Richie is quiet. He’s holding Mike’s hand in one of his and Will’s hand in his other. He really hasn’t let go of Will since he’d caught a hold of him.

El is on Mike’s other side, nearly plastered there. She’s holding on to him tightly, talking in low tones that get answered with a slight shake of the head or a nod here and there. She’ll be separated from him again too soon and she hates it. But it’s the only thing they can do.

It’s the plan that they’ve all agreed upon after all. Richie, Mike, and Will to tackle the Mind Flayer, El and Kali’s gang to close the gate, and Kali to keep the Party safe as they fight off (_distract_) the demodogs and other creatures (_whatever the fuck they might be_).

Kali’s gang are tightly squeezed just behind the front seats where they can look out with Mick and Kali as the van continues to hurtle forward. They’re heading back to the lab that they just _barely _managed to escape from the first time and yet there are no complaints. Not even from Axel. His bandaged arm hurts and it’s turning black under the bandage but he can’t think about that. He’s pretty sure they’re all fucked anyway. Might as well save his breath…

For now.

The van’s brakes screeches as the vehicle is forced to stop violently. They’re still a mile or so from the final destination but it’s getting harder and harder to see what’s directly in front of them with the way that the sky has darkened. The ominous lightning crisscrossing in the low hanging clouds is now the only source of light beyond the van’s feeble headlights and it’s simply too random to be enough to help them see _anything_ for very long. Mick has already had to swerve multiple times in order to avoid hitting _things_ zigzagging across the road and alongside them.

“It’s time boys and girls…” Kali announces quietly, not bothering to look behind her shoulder to see what she knows will be a mixture of scared and determined faces. “Show time.”

There’s a moment where it’s utterly silent within the van before a shuddering breath is let loose.

“Let’s beat these mother fuckers out of our town.” Richie mutters. He opens the door, Mikey right beside him still a bit shaky but at least standing on his own. He hesitates though to glance at Will who gives him a look that’s clear. He hasn’t changed his mind. And he won’t… It’s too late to change it now. The three start to walk ahead and there’s more than just flashes of lightening to brighten their dark surroundings as Richie causes demodogs and other creatures to burst into flames.

El is right behind the three; Axel, Funshine and Dottie following her closely, guns cocked and ready to be let loose in a flurry of ammunition.

Lucas catches Dustin’s eyes before getting up, fingers tight around the bat’s handle. He steps out of the van and hears more than feels or sees as Dustin and Max follow suit. Kali joins them silently. They’ll be staying near the van. Hopefully not just act as a distraction but also as a way to protect their only possible means away from this hell hole.

The fight starts immediately. As if the creatures from the Upside Down know or can sense them. More like the Mind Flayer knows and is sending them their way. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that means that the attacks have been more targeted and there’s a chance that the rest of the town is still safe. Untouched. Maybe. 

It’s hard work, the swinging and hitting and trying to keep these guys at bay to avoid getting bitten or worse. Dustin’s not entirely sure that Kali’s powers work on the demodogs with the way they seem to be honing in on them but then who knows… maybe it is, because the latest mother fucker missed him. And then he realizes that Kali is doing it on purpose. She drops the illusion and flicks it back on to keep the creatures from losing interest and turning on the rest of their divided party members.

Despite the chaos, Max tries to keep an eye on the other two groups as best as she can while she swings at another demodog. It’s easiest to keep track of the twins and Will with the way that fire seems to erupt around them every time one of the dark plumes that is the Mind Flayer tries to reach for Will. It illuminates them briefly, those flames, and the dark plumes hisses and moves away only to come back again and again.

El and the others have now completely disappeared. Max says another silent prayer in her head. She hopes that not being able to see her friend means she’s been successful in reaching the building but who the hell knows. 

It’s Max in any case who sees Richie stop first, the tall teen dropping to his knees, hands flat on the ground. For a heartbreaking moment, she thinks he’s fallen or maybe is even already depleted completely of energy, and the scream that comes out of her is never heard because the whole world just erupts around them. The dark plumes that had been part of the Mind Flayer reaching out towards them as well as Will and the twins and all the roots that were visible just minutes before are suddenly in flames.

Everyone can feel the scorching heat and are forced to take a step back, hands and arms going to cover their faces as the flames move as if alive to circle around them, reaching ever higher. The flames become like a wall, barricading them and the van from everything else.

…

Mike grips his brother’s shoulder hard, feeling more and more of himself get taken. He knows he has to hold on. Knows that he’s the conduit able to tap into Will’s potential and feed both his and Will’s energy to Richie but it _hurts. _It’s searingly painful as it’s always been and he doesn’t even know how Will’s still holding on, grip tight on his own hand.

He’s got to keep his mind as clear as he can because at one point, he knows he’s going to need to break the connection to keep Will alive. If he takes too much, then there will be nothing left of Will. He’s already surprised by how long they’ve lasted and how much they’ve done.

But he knows that currently, they’re just pissing the Mind Flayer off even more with each attempt of the monster at reaching Will thwarted. More needs to be done. And soon because Will is weakening and Mike doesn’t honestly know, how much _he_’s even got left.

His fingers dig harder into Richie’s shoulder when he hears El’s voice, frantic but clear, that she’s made it in. She’s in the building and making her way to the Gate.

Richie doesn’t even have to say anything before he shifts positions, knees and hands to the ground. He understands exactly what Mike’s telling him with the tightening grip.

It’s time.

Richie takes more of Mike and Will just then in a way that brings Mike also to his knees, right besides Richie. The world erupts and Mike, blind from the brightness, shoves Will away in a hard push after grabbing the last pulses of energy that he can from the shorter boy.

There’s a wall of fire that circles around Will, protective and growing. A twin to the one that is now surrounding the van along with Kali, Dustin, Lucas, and Max.

Mike closes his eyes, entering the Void and sees where El is. He shows it to Richie who takes more and more from Mike, sending his flames into the building so that it can kill or scare the creatures that were haltering the girl’s progress to the Gate.

_Are you still sure? _

He thinks the words are spoken out loud. But maybe they’re just so connected in that moment that he simply _hears_ all of his twin’s agonized thoughts.

_Are you? _

He thinks of El. He thinks of Will. He thinks of everyone. Of his family. And he nods.

_Yes. Take it all. _

…

Maybe El had started off startled when the first flames appeared, clearing the passage forward but now she barely blinks at their presence, running faster, trusting that they’ll keep her safe and sound as she runs blindly forward, down stairs and around what seems like endlessly long hallways. The flames are keeping her safer than Kali’s gang who were struggling to keep up with how fast the demodogs moved. Still, they were trying. And the sound of bullets still echo all around them.

It’s as they’re finally in the most underground level, that El notices that the flames are starting to appear for shorter amounts of time. Less bright and more apt to flicker and fade within minutes of appearing. Less likely to strike in a lethal way and more like pulses meant to injure or at the very least scare the remaining creatures that are still keeping up and trying to surround El and the others with her.

It makes her fear for the twins and Will. She knows that there’s always a limit to how much and for how long they can use their skills. She’s wondering if Richie is reaching his. She shakes her head to keep the fear at bay as best as she can.

She has to focus.

She has to end this.

Still, she can’t help but give a slight cry when the flames disappear altogether.

…

Kali hisses when the curtain of flames just drops, the heat evaporating and _finally_ allowing her to urgently take a breath of clear cold air. She opens her eyes, as she’d kept them shut to keep from being blinded by the fire. She’s grateful and yet scared by the change and it doesn’t take long for her to move so that she can look to where she’d last seen the boys.

She doesn’t like what she sees.

Richie is kneeling, arms outstretched and moving to fend of the Mind Flayers’ continued attack and progress into their world. The monster from hell doesn’t seem to have moved back towards the Gate any. If anything, it looks more like it’s closer to them than ever.

Mike is on the ground as well but laid out, hands now gripping his twin’s ankle in what looks like a desperate attempt to keep their connection despite his waning strength. It’s the tension in his hands that is the only indication in her mind that the boy is even still conscious and alive. Kali continues to scan and sees that there’s still one circle of flames alive and well and she guesses that it must be the one surrounding Will. But it too, looks like it’s weakening and flickering. The height of the flames lowering, bit by bit.

Which means that the twins had stopped using the short boy as a source of energy and from the looks of it, they are draining and draining fast. Kali makes a quick decision, knowing that the decision may cost the three that had placed under her charge their lives. But the decision may save so many other lives and so she still goes, legs pumping hard as she runs as fast as she can towards the twins.

It’s a gamble. She’s not sure if Mike has enough left in him to use her. If he even can since she’s more than just a Sensitive but if he can…

She throws herself at the Empath/Telepath and grabs at his face.

“Use me!” She screams. “Take from me, you little piece of shit! You can’t die without saving us from what you’ve unleashed!”

The closed eyes twitch open and one hand that had been holding onto Richie’s ankle slowly unhooks before it fastens onto her wrist.

The pain that follows is indescribable and Kali would wish for a quick death in its stead but honestly, she can’t think at all.

Max, Lucas, and Dustin are left standing next to one another, faces covered in soot and some minor injuries, bleeding freely, as the world roars back into what seems like a wall of flames. It doesn’t approach them this time or make any move to circle them and Lucas for one, is grateful. He’s more than a little scared as he watches the flames this time just stay targeting the Mind Flayer. The way the flames move is less defensive. It’s more of an attack. Beating and beating at the Mind Flayer.

And it seems to take ages but really, it only takes several heart thundering moments before the Mind Flayer starts to cede ground, being pushed back, foot by foot, mile by mile towards where it came from. It’s more than injured. It’s closer to its death bed.

Below them, in the underground bunker, El taps into her hurt, her anger, and her fear and seals the Gate closed as the last of the Mind Flayer, burning still, goes through to the other side.

El’s screams as her power roars through her and out are lost amongst other screams. The screams of the demodogs dying as their parent is lost to them. The screams of Kali’s gang as the world starts to shake once more.

And above ground?

Above ground, Richie, Mike, and Kali are suddenly incredibly quiet and unnaturally still. They’re all laid out on the ground and the last of the flames that had been surrounding Will are suddenly and completely gone. He’s not moving either and Max runs towards them despite the world shaking under her feet and causing her to fall more than once.

She can’t stop.

She needs to convince herself that her friends aren’t all dead.

Tbc... 

A/N - You all are awesome. Your continued support, comments, and feedback have been warming my soul. Stay strong and stay safe and healthy. Hugs to all of you. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning that this is still not the happy reunion everyone is waiting for, but we're creeping up to it? It is an update on how the Party and Kali's gang are faring after the "Final Battle"...

Chapter 25

He can feel first. He can sense the soft touches of someone brushing his shortened hair off his forehead before there’s a press of dry lips on the skin. He can feel the way a sheet is pulled up to his chin, the creases of the fabric gently smoothed away by soft hands. There’s even the sensation from time to time of his hand being tugged from the side of his body and having his fingers curled against someone else’s.

The touch of others’ feels warm. And overall, he feels comfortable where he lays. But the air around him is cold and prickles at the naked skin - the areas that aren’t under the sheet and aren’t bandaged that is.

He feels it, yes, but it doesn’t quite make sense. It’s merely a myriad of sensations that flow in and out like the ocean tides and they get lost somewhere as his brain rests and tries to heal. There’s no rushing this and there’s no urgency anyway.

He doesn’t think.

He simply is.

And so, he stays still, unresponsive to the many different touches and sensations.

Then the sounds start to join the medley. There’s a faint humming that’s constant. A white noise of sorts and it’s soothing. It doesn’t hurry the process along. It doesn’t demand attention. It is just there.

Like him, it just is.

Sometimes the sound is paired with the touch. There are hushed voices, calling a (_his?_) name gently, plaintively and the uncurling of his fingers feel a bit more real. If that makes any sense at all. There’s a bit of pain there as the other’s hands grip his tightly.

Desperately.

The voices aren’t always the same and they aren’t always present. They’re easier to ignore when they don’t call his name and don’t touch him, begging him to wake up, begging him to be okay. Telling him over and over that he’s safe now. That he’s home.

He starts to make sense of the flashes of information his senses are trying to communicate to him. It’s just still too hard. Too much like wading in a vast pit of black molasses with flashes of _something_. And there’s this intuitive _knowing_ that if he tries too hard, too quickly, it will bring a different kind of sense alive that’s so closely related to touch. The sensation of pain and fear and grief and no… he can’t risk that just yet.

Time doesn’t exist here. It isn’t even a concept. And that is just fine by him.

He starts to think though. Starts to concentrate and he can feel something different now. He starts to see.

It’s a fluttering of the eyelids to start with. Just barely a tremor that lets blinding light in. It’s almost an overload of the senses. Almost painful even and so he stops pushing, slipping back effortlessly into the darkness and the nothingness that he is. It’s safer there. But the touches and the voices don’t accept that. They don’t stop just because he tries to erase himself and go back to the darkness. They don’t disappear even though they do fade in and out.

In the end, they continue calling him back and so, he tries again. His eyes blink open but they remain unfocused. There’s just blurs of different shades of white before his vision is filled with something. Movement that he cannot track and it’s exhausting, this being alive but not living. Awake but not aware.

As his eyes dry from remaining open but not really active, he finds himself slipping away and through no conscious decision of his own, his eyes slowly close once more.

If he could understand the sounds, _truly_ take the meaning in and not just simply hear them, he would know how much that small movement provided both hope and impatient despair in the soft cold hands that are holding onto his. It would have made sense as to why there is warm liquid slowly dripping down on his face.

But instead there is just blackened peace that is way too enticing and he allows it to embrace him once more. Whatever makes him _him_ is not ready yet and so he rests, only to try again later. Whatever that means.

His eyes open for longer and take more of the surroundings, minutes to hours at a time even if they do remain glazed and unfocused, non-responsive to whoever is in the room. His fingers start to twitch and his body’s natural reflexes move when he is poked or prodded in certain ways.

When the next phase happens, it’s like a dream. In fact, it might very well be just that. It’s still just a blur of colors that surround him but there’s a conscious awakening happening. Suddenly there’s a curiosity that sparks from within as the movement across the room catches his attention. The voice that speaks is soft and it’s not addressing him directly. But it makes sense. The words. The meaning. The emotions behind them.

He understands and so he listens.

And he feels.

And he wants to respond.

He wants to move the thick muscle in his mouth but it remains stuck behind his teeth, jaws locked closed. Maybe it’s stubbornness at the small part of him that wants to remain asleep and not awake or aware or maybe it’s a weakness from lack of use. He’s not sure which it actually is but what is clear to him is that it’s suddenly claustrophobic being in his unmoving body.

The inability to move even his lips and open his mouth to say a name, a word, even a grunt, is absolutely terrifying. Still his mind is working now and all he can do is helplessly tilt his head to the side, eyes wide as he listens helplessly to quiet sobs with interwoven confessions of love.

_We’re here. We can hear you. We’re okay. And he loves you. He loves you so damned much. It’s why we’re still alive after all. Because if I’m okay… if I can hear you. So can he. Cause he promised… over his dead body we’d be separated. So it’s okay Ellie-belle… it’s okay…_

_ We’re here…_

…

El wakes up at the hospital fully lucid. She’s in pain but it’s secondary to the panic that fills her as she takes stock of her surroundings. In a way, it’s good that Hopper is sitting in a plastic chair that is way too small for his large frame. If he hadn’t been there in that moment, snoring lightly, she knows that she would have probably caused herself and the equipment in the room a lot more damage in her fear and haste to escape.

But seeing him, hearing his sleep heavy breathing gives her enough pause to really take a look around her. She is connected to machines but they’re very different than the ones Papa had kept on her when doing the studies. There’s one that’s more like a needle attached to her hand dripping _something_ in her and okay, maybe the panic isn’t truly gone even with Hopper here. She scratches the thing off her hand and then quickly scrambles to put pressure on the area _hard_ because blood – dark and red – just flows out. It’s a minor hurt and El finds herself slipping off the bed quietly, easily managing to keep the pressure on top of her hand as she waits for the bleeding to stop on its own.

Her eyes are wide as she takes in the rest of the space. It’s quiet and white in here but there are gentle lights strumming just outside the closed door and there are shuffling sounds that alert her that this place is bustling and alive despite it being so quiet in the confines of the room. There’s a television attached to a high corner of the wall and that’s… different.

Her bare feet make no noise as she makes her way to a large window. She can see that she’s up a couple floors and it’s night out there. It causes her reflection to be a pale outline on the flat shiny surface but there’s relief in seeing that she’s not shaved. Her hair is a messy wave of brown locks that still reaches her shoulders.

Not gone.

El takes another little breath before turning away from the window and touching Hopper’s shoulder gently. He wakes up with a full-bodied grunt but when his eyes focus on her, he’s quick to get up and hold on to her like she’s the most important thing in his world. She feels the tears but can’t tell whether they’re her own or his and then realizes, it really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. He’s alive. She’s alive. And this is _not_ Papa’s place.

It takes a bit but Hopper shares with her everything as best as he knows since he’d been stuck in town and not where the actual fight had taken place (_and this would confirm something about the Mind Flayer’s attack and how targeted it had been, just focusing on _them_ and now in town. And despite that nugget of information being revealed, it just leads to more questions that she canNOT_ _handle thinking about just now_). Still, he knows the important pieces. The parts that matter the most to her. Everyone in the Party is safe, Kali is safe, same with Funshine and Dottie, and Mick…

And the twins.

God the twins are in this building with her, same with Axel under Dr. Owens’ care.

Hopper squeezes her tight to him though as he mumbles through the next bit. The less happy bits.

He starts off with Axel, sharing slowly that the man’s bite wound is infected – badly. And they’re not sure if he’s going to pull through exactly. As whatever venom is pulsing through the man’s veins are clearly not of their world. But still the doctors are trying what they can with the limited information that they have available to them and it sounds like they’re considering amputating the man.

And the twins… He hesitates and she freezes before gently but firmly pushing away from his chest. He holds onto her, taking her hands in his large ones. The twins haven’t woken up yet. They’re in a coma and no one knows why or for how long. But, his breath stutters, they’ve got to hold onto hope. Richie’s showing signs of coming round. It’s promising. Really promising. 

But Mike? She doesn’t have to ask out loud. He sees it in the distress of her large eyes and Hopper looks away before shaking his head.

She pushes away fully, freeing her hands from his and turning away from him completely. She hears how he hisses out her name plaintively, following her as she pushes out of the hospital room. She’s walking only half blind, trying to _feel_ Mike but terrified that if she goes to the Void, he’ll simply be not there like he’s been not there for the 320 days that he’d been utterly _gone_. She can’t… Her chest hurts and her breath remains locked in her throat. Unmoving and she can’t….

She can’t breathe.

El knows Hopper is still following her, keeping the nurses from stopping her half blind progress as she ends up just outside the twin’s hospital room. They’re there. She knows it. Can feel it. And she can’t… she still can’t… she just…

Her hands are shaky as she pushes the door open and steps in. It’s dark in here. Darker than it had been in the hallway and it takes a moment for her eyes to adjust. But she sees them.

They both remain still in their beds, eyes closed. They could simply be sleeping. At peace in a way she’s never seen either of them be. But there’s bruises and bandages and gaunt hollow cheeks and even though the twins have always been pale – here it’s just a bit too pale. A lack of color. A lack of life.

But they could still just be sleeping. Her brain tries to tell her as she manages to get a hissed stuttering breath in that hurts and doesn’t feel like enough because it’s not enough.

She moves closer to Mike and touches his cheek, willing him to come to life. To have his expressive brown eyes open wide, his nose wrinkling with embarrassment at the touch before his face would take on the expression of utmost concern at the emotions that are most likely clear on her own face. To have him speak her name in that deepened voice that it’s transformed to be in the time they’ve been separated. To have him reach up and cup her face and…

He doesn’t move.

There’s nothing to indicate that he’s felt her touch or that he even hears her as she starts to whisper his name, over and over again. She starts to cry, knees weak as she half collapses on his chest. Her hand goes to cover her mouth as she tries to quiet the cries, words interwoven with the choked off sobs.

Hopper doesn’t try to move her. He waits it out, relieved that this is the one night that Nancy had taken the shift at the hospital having finally convinced her mother that Holly needed her back home too.

They both watch as El cries herself out, finally falling asleep, hands gripping at Mike’s hospital gown. Nancy doesn’t even say anything as Hopper finally, slowly, moves her so that his adoptive daughter is hidden under the light hospital blanket besides Mike. He can’t bear to separate her from him just now. Though he knows he’ll have to.

Maybe Nancy’s hoping, like he is, that true love can win the day once more. That maybe, just maybe, they’ll have a fairy tale ending.

God knows these kids fucking deserved something like a happy ending.

Tbc...

A/N - You all are amazing and warm my heart. You really do! Thank you, thank you, thank you a million times over for all the support you've been consistently providing as the story gets created. <3 Hoping you all stay safe and healthy. 


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie continues to recuperate and Kali gets fed up enough to come visit the twins in the hospital to see what the heck's going on with Mikey...

Chapter 26

It takes Richie another day or so before his scores improve on the Glasgow Coma Scale to the point where he’s no longer considered a coma patient and instead, he’s considered to be a survivor. He’s waking up now. He’s tracking. He may not be fully oriented. But it’s coming back to him.

Slowly.

…

When he opens his eyes again and truly sees, the room around him is both sterile and alive. It’s sterile in that the paint is white and bleak. It’s clean in that all _too_ clean chemical smell filling his nose and lungs and there are no spider webs to be found in any of the four corners of the ceiling (_which is the place the sneaky fuckers always managed to build their homes no matter how much you cleaned_). But it’s alive with the hum of machines and the lights coming off said machines.

It’s not the white box of a room that Richie has grown used to and it’s too bright and big and airy to be the isolation closet. This place is bigger for one and there are windows and doors and…

…and Aunt Karen asleep in a chair snuggled between two hospital beds. She looks uncomfortable where she’s slouched asleep sitting up. One hand carefully gripping the cover on his bed while the rest of her body leans unconsciously towards Mikey.

Mikey.

Richie struggles to sit up and the various hospital machines hooked onto him sense his agitation, beeping and squiggle lines that hold no meaning to him burning up the screens. His twin is there, thin and in the shadows, but alive. And whole. There are bandages on his hands and up his arms but besides that…

There’s warmth spilling down Richie’s cheeks and it takes him a bit to realize that he’s crying because he’s so fucking relieved.

They’re alive.

They made it.

They’re alive. And they’re fucking free…

…

The doctors make a big deal of him waking up and checking his pain level and the state of his bandages. He has some pretty severe burns but they’re healing much quicker and better than the doctors were thinking they ever could or would. He’s not even going to need the skin grafts they’d been expecting he’d need. Some nurses speak in hushed tones about how it’s all a miracle really.

The fact that Mikey and him were found after being missing for so long with no ransom calls. The fact that they’re alive and whole. And yeah, the way he’s healing is a miracle too.

The doctors and the nurses are always in and out prodding him and checking on Mikey who has yet to wake up. He doesn’t know how to tell them what they want to ask but haven’t yet. They think he’s too traumatized to tell them. The truth is, he’s just too tired still. And he doesn’t have the answers that they’ll accept to hear so why bother.

The police and the FBI agents – well the ones not Chief Hopper – crowd his bed and they’re _not_ so afraid or mindful of his supposed fragile state. They ask the questions and take down notes as they try to make sense of his nods, his shaking of the head, and eye rolls. It’s only when he starts making rude ass gestures that they all get herded out of the room by a very protective wall made of Aunt Karen and Nancy and Good Ol’ Chief Hopper.

He knows that they too have questions that he can’t (_won’t_) answer. But he’ll take all of their attention and soak it in. He still tires easily and though he fights it every damn time, he sleeps more often than not. It’s partially dreamless sleep due to how hopped up on drugs they keep him. But some nightmares sneak in (_bastards)_ and he always wakes up to Aunt Karen or Nancy there, quick to sooth him back onto his pillow and tell him it’s okay, he’s safe, he’s home. He’s never going to ever be taken away again.

Ever.

“I know,” He’s slipped up once, whispering that despite shuddering in Aunt Karen’s embrace. He knows because he’s killed everyone who knew about them. He knows because he’d made sure to burn all of the files until it was nothing. He knows… but he’s still afraid.

His tattoo is still clear on his wrist.

And his mind is too quiet with Mikey still being… not awake. He tries to tell himself that Mikey _is_ alive and that it’s not just the machines keeping twin’s heart beating and his lungs working in and out, in and out. Richie tries to remind himself of what it was like when he’d been in the dark peace of nothingness as his body and his mind tried to heal itself.

Maybe Mikey just needs more time. 

Not maybe.

Mikey _does_ just need more time.

And Richie holds on to Aunt Karen’s hand tight as he fights the urge to fall back asleep once more. 

…

Richie’s not sure what he expected when he saw the human shadow creep up to their hospital door before slipping into their room quietly. He just knows he wasn’t expecting Kali. She barely acknowledges him with a jerk of the head before going directly for his brother’s bed.

There’s none of her gang members with her and it leaves her looking smaller than usual. If he weren’t _(slightly, okay, so maybe more than slightly) _scared that she would gut him for speaking, he’d ask her what the fuck…?

So, he watches quietly _(nearly biting his tongue off from the effort)_ as she rests her fingers softly near Mikey’s temple. It’s the first time he’s seen it since waking up, and it makes him doubt his own eyes, but he sees his twin frown and eyelashes flutter frantically for a heartbeat or two and it makes Richie sit up.

She may be fucking scary but if she hurts _him_, Richie doesn’t know what exactly he’ll do as weak as he still is, but he’ll do _something_.

…

In the space of a breath and closing her eyes, Kali finds herself in what has to be her little sister’s boyfriend’s mind. It’s loud in here and she immediately has to fight the instinct to let go and leave him to deal with his own mess. It’s only her love for her sister that keeps her there at all. And, well, okay. The punks had helped her end Papa for once and for all. She did owe them. So Kali grits her teeth and stays, trying her hardest to make sense of what is going on.

It’s chaotic – a blur of screams and whispers, images and words, feelings of fear and despair and outright grief, barreling from all around and she finds herself this close to losing who she is in the mess. No wonder the kid hasn’t woken up from his “coma”. He’s lost. Overwhelmed.

None of these thoughts, dreams, memories, and feelings are his. He’s just a conduit. Like a radio whose dial is constantly being turned to a new station and then hopping to the next and the next and the frequencies are all getting blended together. 

She feels her physical body tense and sweat bead her forehead and the back of her neck.

Kali hadn’t expected it to be this bad. But then again, she hadn’t known what to expect. She’d feared that he’d be empty, no longer there, erased out of existence due to his part in closing the Gate but this…? 

She takes another deep breath before quietly but assertively calling his name. She pictures him. Tall and gangly, thin and pale, kind brown eyes and freckles popping out on sharp cheekbones…

Awkward.

_Mike…_

Puppyish.

The thoughts of others recede just a smidgeon but the emotions stay screaming at her, whirling in ugly glaring colors. She waves a mental hand at them irritated that this is even taking her this long to find _him _in this mess.

Isn’t it his mind? Isn’t he even _trying_ to get back to her little sister?

She can’t help but think of El. How tearful she’s been… even though she’s strong and beautiful and…

And there’s a form that’s been curled up in a tiny ball that’s slowly getting up. Kali grins, showing teeth.

Finally.

She moves forward and grabs the shape, pulling him into standing upright. His hands are covering his ears and his eyes are shut tight but he allows himself to be dragged.

_Now listen here, Mike Wheeler. And listen good, because I’m only going to go over this once…_

…

Richie is still sitting, eyes wide behind the thick glasses as he continues to silently observe Kali and his brother. She’s clearly in some sort of trance and definitely using her powers as that fucking telltale sign is dripping red from her nose to the formally pristine (_no longer sterile)_ white hospital bedding.

And then the trance ends as she opens her eyes and so does Mikey. The two stare at each other for a bit before Kali brusquely brings the back of her hand to wipe at her nose.

“We’re square now. We don’t owe each other anything.” She says, voice slightly shaky. “You take care of her now. Or I will be back.” She shoves herself off and without a backward glance, leaves exactly the way she came in.

Richie blinks and opens his mouth, closes it, before opening it once more.

“What the fuck? Am I… this is a fucking dream.” He hisses to himself. “Has to be. Did she… did she fucking threaten to kick your bony ass over princess?” But Mikey is reaching for the tube that’s still down his throat, face contorting into a grimace and the move causes the machines attached to him to go off.

It only takes minutes for their room to be filled with nurses and Aunt Karen, back from her cafeteria run, all of them clamoring around Mikey and blocking him from Richie’s view.

Mother fuckers…

Tbc...

A/N - You ALL are AWESOME! Just thought you should know this. :) Hope you're enjoying the story still and that you're all staying safe and sound! Sending you all much love <3. 


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get visitors at the hospital...

Chapter 27 

A handful of days later find the twins both fully conscious and gaining strength fast. They’re not quite cleared to go home yet and Richie’s sure it’s got to do more with them being ‘miracles’ for the medical staff and also a frustrating mystery for the investigators on the case that Hopper hadn’t managed to make go away than any actual medical condition. At least, with the weaning of the pain medications, both he and Mikey were awake more than not and due to this, they’d been granted visitors beyond family members for the first time. 

He’s sure that they’re breaking a number of hospital rules what with all the Party members already crowding around their two beds but so far no one’s said anything; and it’s left Richie wondering what sort of strings Hopper has managed to pull for them this time. He tries to make a mental note to get him some flowers and shit but a small part of him knows that the second he’s allowed out of this place, the mental note will have disappeared along with all the other random thoughts and observations that have passed through his brain. Already his mind is back to his friends, simply taking them in and feeling finally at home and at peace and excited yet tired all at once.

Red is sitting next to him, back snuggled against his shoulder and she’s laughing as she listens to the gang. Dusty is casually sitting by Richie’s feet, chatting in various different accents with him about absolutely nothing at all. It’s fucking nonsense and he LOVES it. It’s just nice to talk and have an audience and _damn_, he’s missed them like nobody’s business. _This _feels more like a reunion and it helps that they don’t have impending doom numbing or obliterating his feelings of happiness at being back with his friends.

Stalker and Doe Eyes are kneeling on Mikey’s bed on either side of him – with Stalker being closer to the door. A protective guard that’s not at all subtle and it’s the only thing that makes his smile lessen here and there. Yeah, he knows his twin looks like bleached out shit on a fucking broken cracker. He has a feeling that he most likely doesn’t look much better. But he has more energy already flowing back through his system while he knows that it’s not at all the case for Mikey.

Fucking battery pack.

The door to their room opening makes him forget his train of thought and he hears Dusty’s voice fade into a questioning tone.

Who the…?

Richie blinks and straightens up. Oh you have got to be fucking kidding. The Party _and _the Losers? Together? In one place? Maybe Mikey and he hadn’t made it out. Maybe they’d died and gone to heaven. To _fucking_ Nirvana. (_But they’re seriously lacking in the _good_ food if this _is _indeed heaven. Like seriously… even the pudding was watery and bland. What the fuck?)_ “DENBROUGH! Yowza! It’s ALL of you Losers!”

“Richie!” Red mutters, shushing him. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.” She’s smiling though, a huge shit eating grin as she waves at the boys from Derry that are still at the door, looking in hesitantly.

Dear Billiam’s gentle serious face is breaking out from a worried expression into a seriously relieved and happy expression. In just two moves, he pushes the door open wider and makes his way to Richie’s side. Richie is just guessing that the rest of the Losers are with the fearless leader, only having seen Stanley’s curls near Bill’s shoulders. However, whether they truly are or not, he’s not able to see it because Billiam’s got him in a crushing hug that leaves Richie grinning.

“Awh, you missed me.”

That gets him smacked (_lighter than it would have been in the past_) by a trembling pale hand. The voice is quiet and dry though and brings back so many memories to Richie that for a moment his chest hurts.

“God only knows why.” There’s a pause before Stanley continues with the same deadpan tone of voice. “Glad to know you’re alive and well… I think.”

“Love you too, Stan-the-man. Come in here and give me some sugah!”

“Seriously? Sugar? No, Richie… just no.” Yet despite the words and the dry tone, Bill is being shoved out of the way so that Stanley can give Richie exactly what he wants. The hug is no less crushing and it lasts just a smidgeon longer than Bill’s before Stanley is getting pushed away from the side.   
“Don’t hog the Trashmouth! We want to say hello too!” Ben is there and then Mike and then…

“Eddie…w-w-what are you w-w-waiting for?” He hears the question quietly while he’s still being firmly sandwiched between Ben and Mike in a weird mix of hugs and slaps to the back.

“…” There’s a quick drawing of a breath instead of an answer and Ben gives Richie a last squeeze before he lets him loose and slips off the side of the bed. Mike finishes his own affectionate attack with a last noogie, not even making a disgusted noise when Richie gives him a nice big and _wet_ smooch to the cheek in thanks.

It kinda makes it dramatic as the rest of the Losers part to leave Eddie just staring at him awkwardly. He’s still too far away to touch and he’s not sure how to read his shortest friend’s expression at the moment. Richie flounders for a second because Eddie, _Eds_, had _always_ been the easiest for him to read. He’d known every button – (_especially how to push them_) – was pretty sure some of them he’d had a hand installing and…

“Eds, Eddie Spaghetti, come here, you bloody noodle head! I promise I’m not contagious…” The words are spoken in a somewhat sing-song tone and whatever is causing Eddie to freeze leaves him. He watches as his friend loosens up and then with a couple quick steps that are lightning fast, Eddie’s on him. His punch is _not_ light but the pain in his cheek barely has time to kick in before skinny arms are thrown around his neck and Eddie is outright _sobbing _on him.

Oh…

“You complete and utter _jerk_!” 

…

Mike instinctively moves back as more people enter their already crowded room. He knows their faces, some via the pictures attached to files but mainly because of the times he’d spent in Richie’s dream world. He knows that the Losers have arrived, and he knows he should be glad for Richie’s sake. Knows how much it’ll mean for his brother to have them all here.

He just feels claustrophobic and then violently angry and protective. He has to tamp down _hard_ on the urge to use his Telepathy on the smallest as he sees what has to be Eddie punch Richie right in the face. His Empathy screams at him that it’s grief and grief makes people do all sorts of things, like feel rage and love and despair and hate and a whole complicated mess of emotions all at once or none at all. A real rollercoaster. But right now, and right here, Eddie’s grief is ALL at once and it mutes all the other more positive emotions that had been filling the room before.

It’s choking Mike. It’s drowning him.

Closing his eyes and shrinking back from the source isn’t going to do anything to help him. He leans into Will, who blinks back up at him, eyes visibly pulled away from the scene that had been making him frown.

“Mike?”

“Get me out of here…” He whispers through gritted teeth. It causes Lucas and Will to both spring into action. They slip off his bed as quickly as they can and come back with a wheelchair, helping Mike get on it before they roll him away. Already, leaving the room helps, and the anger starts to recede. But Mike really only feels all of the tension leave him once they’re in the outside visiting garden and he’s able to breathe in the fresh air. To feel it on his skin. The pressure of being surrounded by so many people eases, and the tension headache that he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying, starts to slowly abate.

He’s changed since becoming a conduit. His Empathy had always been ‘on’ more or less. Triggered by stronger emotions, yes, but always ‘reading’, picking up on others’ emotions and making it confusing to try and muddle through what _he_ was feeling versus what someone else around him was feeling. His Telepathy, though, had been like a light switch. It had to be forcibly turned on, for it to work. He’d had to strengthen the muscle and reach the Void to have it work. Now though? Not so much.

Oh, it wasn’t like he could hear everyone and everything around him all the time. And thank the fuck. But it was like, his Empathy and Telepathy had merged. And when someone was feeling strongly, he could not only _feel_ them. He could _hear_ them too. The stronger they were feeling and thinking, the more it eroded that sense of whether it was his own emotions, his own thoughts, his own being.

Mike closes his eyes and tries to remember what Kali had said to him. To always imagine a wall or shield around the core of who he is so that he’ll never forget it. No matter how many others are around him; their invading thoughts and emotions demanding his attention. He pictures the wall she’d helped him create and tries to work on filling in the cracks.

It was easier in the Lab. More controlled. Less people. Less chaos. He knows he’s fucked when there’s a part of him that misses the place of horrors. But in some ways… it had been… easier.

The hospital is too much and all he wants is for quiet. For home. For everyone to go away and leave him and Richie alone. He’s tired and to be honest, there’s very few people who he actively wants around him.

He can count them on one hand. Richie is a given. It feels wrong when they’re separated. Like an itch. (_And he’s already berating himself for leaving his twin now. Knows that Richie is probably overwhelmed, and Mike’s left him to deal with it and the rest of the Party and the Losers combined on his own. But Mike can’t… he can’t deal with all of them just now. Stop. Just focus on fixing the cracks. Just breath. Patch this crack up. Breath. That one there… don’t forget that crack…)_

Holly. His little sister who merely curls on his chest or Richie’s and doesn’t ask anything of them is second. She just either sleeps with them or slowly and quietly tells them stories now, trying to soothe their hurts that she must instinctively know are there. The stories, he doesn’t always pay attention, but he knows that some of them are well-known and that she must have memorized. The others are ones that she makes up on the spot. She’s grown and she’s heavier now. A little more verbal. But her weight is comforting and grounding, and he’s gotten used to waking up to her being curled up against his side, just ready to keep his mind occupied and from going into the dark place.

Will is similar in that he quietly sits with them. He knows when to make conversation or merely just be there. Mike can sense within his friend the list of questions he has but that he’s swallowing down for now and for that, he’s insanely grateful. He’s also grateful with the way Will has apparently managed to get the entire group to _fucking_ back off and get curiosity voyages stalled (_maybe even banned_) for the time being. He provides touch only when he senses that it’s welcomed, maybe even wanted. And he does a damn good job of hiding his injured hand in a pocket or extra-long sleeve, knowing how much stress it causes Richie when his twin does see it.

El would be on his list. His heart aches to be able to see her, to physically be in the same room as her. But beyond the one visit from her when he’d been still in the “coma”, she hadn’t been able to come back. He knows it’s because they’re all keeping the farce going. That she technically doesn’t know him, and it’d be weird for her to come visit him. Especially with how often his family is there and how little his mother (_aunt. Fuck. whatever.)_ knows of the truth of anything and everything that had taken place. He’s tired of the games and the hoops and the distance and the rules.

He’s just tired.

They visit one another in the Void when he’s up for it. It should be better than nothing. It _is_ better than nothing. It’s just…not enough.

Mike feels himself be tugged to a spot under a tree, where there’s a bench and feels as Lucas let’s go of the wheelchair handles so that his friend can fall back on the wooden surface.

Internally, he glances at his barrier around his core. He’s filled in the cracks as best as he can.

He opens his eyes and glances back at Lucas.

“Thank you…” He offers slowly. He knows he should explain. That his friends deserve that much but he’s not sure he can right now.

“Hey, no worries, man. It was way overcrowded anyway.” His friend shrugs as he talks, relaxed smile tugging at his lips in a clear, chill, not a big deal kinda way. “You better?”

Mike nods and Lucas’ smile deepens.

His list is complete.

…

It’s a bit unreal to be here, if he’s to be completely honest. Bill still feels like all of this is one long drawn out dream that will turn into a nightmare eventually. The kind of dream that fills him with nostalgia and warm happy feelings of contentment that then gets doused by the anguish of an all-consuming grief when he wakes up and realizes that it was simply a dream.

Georgie was still dead. _It_ had come and gone, devastating his family and his overall sense of security in what lay in the shadows. And Richie? Richie would still be missing. His friend group would be hanging on to each other in a strained about way and Bev would still no longer remember who he is. The hospital scene with the hugging and the laughter and the cheers hiding the tears that are hastily being scrubbed away would all just snap away into oblivion when he finally, finally opens his eyes only to find himself in his bed, seeing his cracked ceiling up above him.

He unconsciously finds himself leaning against Stanley and his friend merely gives him a quick questioning glance and hum before his attention is pulled back to Richie and the rest crowded around the hospital bed. He can see the way Stanley is desperately, hungrily drinking the sight and the words, (_that witty, witty, foul mouth banter_) in. He wishes he could get sucked into the moment just like his friend. All of his friends really.

But if it’s a dream…

He doesn’t want to get too attached or too emotionally invested in it. (_It’s a lie. He’s already too invested. He’s already too attached. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch_). The details of this dream are just so, so, so fucking real. Right down to how Max’s call had played out, her words still ringing in his ears, announcing that the twins had been found and were in the hospital. Her apology for not calling sooner but that the twins had been in a coma and were only now showing signs of pulling through it. Even the way that his phone had rung the second he’d ended the call with her to have Ben excitedly tell him that Dustin had called him and did he know? And oh shit! How would they break the news to the rest of the Losers? And should he already go get tickets to get to Hawkins? And for how long would they all be able to stay? And the stream of questions had been weirdly grounding and unreal at the same time.

Just like gathering everyone up and telling them the news and planning the details so that they’d get to where they are now. Just like the way time seemed to pass in this dream, making days collapse into one another with frenetic energy until it finally seemed to slow down like an aged film strip. Every grainy little clip stretching out each second for all it’s worth.

He doesn’t ever want to wake up.

He doesn’t know how long he stays, staring at the scene play out, there but not really there. Simply trying to memorize all the details to hold onto and hope that it becomes real one day if it truly isn’t already. Bill startles though when someone approaches him from a wheelchair and gently but firmly pushes him forward, saying: “It’s real. It’s not a dream. And you’re making him fucking nervous staying away like you are…” It’s a tired rasp of a voice. But it…

It does the trick. The voice and the push and… it’s like whatever shock had been wrapping around his entire being and causing the entire scene to feel unreal, to feel like a dream, is snapped away from him. Like a plastic saran wrap taken off a container and tossed aside.

The tears come and he’s blinking them quickly down and away but they’re there. And yeah, it hurts, but a good hurt. Not the bitching kind of hurt of waking up to a dream that was simply a dream. Instead its a healing sort of hurt.

The two groups watch as Bill covers his face with his hands, Stanley hesitating by his side before Richie mutters, “For fuck’s sake, Stanny, hug the man! And if you fucking ain’t gonna do it, at least bring him over here so I fucking can!”

It breaks the ice and Bill finds himself being both shoved forward and then piled upon as what feels has got to be the entire room’s occupants come forward to hug both him and Richie. They’re so fucking heavy and the bones sticking in awkward places so uncomfortable that Bill has to laugh and hiss and also fucking accept that yeah, this really is real. It’s not a dream.

Thank fuck…

Tbc...

A/N - Thank you everyone for the continued support! The next chapter will pose a question of sorts and I'm curious as to how all of you will feel/respond to it. :) In any case, thank you for sticking with me throughout this journey. Hope you're all staying safe and healthy. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins are home and Holly is /ADAMANT/ that her big brothers meet a special someone...

Chapter 28

The twins are home for only a day before the doorbell rings and Holly yells cheerfully that she can get it. She’s not alone though as Karen follows her youngest to the door, face bright with joy and curiosity. Her smile grows as she sees who’s behind the door and she ushers them in, half laughing at the way Holly grabs El’s hand and starts dragging her inside without much warning. The teen girl can only follow, shooting an apologetic look that is clearly in part to Karen and in part to the group that is left behind. 

“Ellie!!! Come, come! They’re home and…” She can hear the excited explanation that doesn’t always quite make sense all the way up the stairs. Karen is left to look at the rest of the group that are still politely waiting outside.

“Hi Mrs. Wheeler,” Max greets her, smile beaming.

“We hope we’re not intruding,” Dustin picks up where the girl stopped. “We just wanted to see if we could say hey to Mike and Richie, you know, welcome them being back home and everything.”

“… but we also understand, if they need to continue resting…” Stanley adds, tone quiet and respectful. Bill besides him nods, hands in his pockets hiding the way his fingers are knotted together.

“You’re more than welcome,” Karen answers, ushering them in with a wave of the hand. “I’m sure it’ll do them good to have some company. They’re upstairs in their room, clearly. Why don’t you go join them and I’ll be up with snacks in a bit.”

“Thanks Mrs. Wheeler!” Multiple voices choruses and then there’s a thundering of footsteps going up the stairs.

…

Mike had stilled when he’d heard the doorbell ring, head tilting to the side as if listening for something before the tension left him again. A small smile is playing on his tired face.

“Heads up, Richie.” He whispers, nudging his dozing brother gently. “We’re about to be invaded.”

“Invay- what?” Richie grumbles but sits up grudgingly, wiping some drool from his mouth and cheek and Mike is left to wrinkle his nose at the slight wet patch left on his upper shoulder. Richie apparently had been in deeper sleep than he’d thought. “What? What’s happening?” But Mike doesn’t have time to answer the question when the door to their shared bedroom is unceremoniously flung open and Holly jumps into both of their arms, finally letting El’s hand go in the process. Richie’s little oof of surprise is lost in the sound of Holly continuing to chatter excitedly.

“Hols!” Mike mutters, managing to capture the little girl in his arms and wrangle her from Richie entirely to give his twin more time to wake up and be coherent again. “What did we say about knocking? And manners?”

“Yeah, what the hell, short stuff?!” Richie is rubbing at his chest where a tiny knee had knocked into him hard.

“But Mikey, Richie…” The little girl whines. “Ellie’s here and she’s heard all about you and you need to meet her!”

“Ellie?” Mike asks, eyes leaving Holly’s to take in El. The girl is standing where Holly had left her, just at the doorstep of their bedroom, small smile playing on her face and eyes bright with pure joy.

“Yes, and you have to meet her,” Holly starts, wriggling out of Mike’s hold and jumping off his lap to run back to El. “She read to me. She read to me almost every day….” Mike elbows Richie to keep him from muttering what he’s thinking, which is that they damn well know who the fuck Ellie is. After he’s assured that the elbow in the side did the trick of shutting up his overly verbose twin, Mike gets up, offering his hand to El.

“It’s nice to meet you…” He finds himself saying quietly, little smile matching El’s as she takes his hand.

“Yes.”

…

Richie isn’t grumpy per se, but he’s had better morning greetings by far. Still, he gets up and waits his turn to “meet” Ellie Belle officially for a second time. He pauses though as he sees Holly’s eyes become wide and her excited chatter quiet. The little one goes from all impish and high energy to awed stillness and he has to blink a couple of times from her to his twin and Ellie Belle before the scene sinks in.

He can’t help but roll his eyes while trying to swallow a laugh down. Of course, the soulmates would turn this into a God Damn Epic Romantic scene without even _trying_. They’re clearly in their own world, eyes locked, hands lingering in that handshake, and the feeling of an intimate moment being created wordlessly between them builds in the small room.

Richie finds himself kneeling down to be at Holly’s height and she turns to him, question on her face.

“That, short stuff, is what we call, love at first sight.” He says it in a tone that’s a fake whisper. Holly leans into him, small arm wrapping around his waist.

“Oh…” Her awed voice is just as loud as his fake whisper and he _really _can’t help but laugh this time when Mikey and Ellie Belle turn bright red and drop their hands to their side.

A/N – What do you think gang? Should this be the last chapter for this cycle? Or would you like more regarding the twins’ transition back home? I dunno… this is such a perfect “happy ending” scene…:P

If you want more of the scenes showing the twins’ transition back home and both the Party and Losers helping them deal with the trauma of the past year, keep going. If you want to stay with the happy scene, end here. :) 

Also, sorry for the delay and the short chapter. This week got the best of me... however, next chapter should be longer and hopefully ready to go by the end of this weekend. <3 Hope you're all staying safe and strong. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins are home and all is good, right? Right... Cause trauma is something that simply goes MIA once home and safe from the traumatic situation... Will disagrees and he wants to make sure the twins know that he's there for them.

Chapter 29

The Party and the Losers become permanent fixtures at the Wheeler household in the coming days. The teenagers fill the house back with noise and laugh (_and smells of BO to much of Nancy’s alarm_) and clean out the fridge more often than not. Mrs. Wheeler doesn’t seem to mind the additional trips to the grocery store, humming away and tugging Holly along with her for the adventure.

In any case, they’re never lacking in snacks. Which is good because they’re all still growing, and Richie and Mike are definitely in need of some major fattening. They’re at least gaining more color in their faces which is relieving. The twins’ energy levels are still hit or miss though showing that they’re still very much in recovering mode despite having been discharged from the hospital a handful of days ago.

Today’s a perfect example. Richie had been all loud noises and gestures, talking a mile a second when they’d arrived. He’d even had Holly on his shoulders before the youngest of the Wheeler’s had been taken from him (_much to Richie and Holly’s dismay_). But now, now he’s fast asleep (_has been for almost an hour_), head settled on Will’s lap. An observation that leaves Eddie feeling vaguely annoyed. Not that he can understand why or really, even wants to understand where the pesky feeling is coming from. It’s not like he’d want to be his friend’s pillow anyway. God knows how long it’s been since Richie showered in a way that could be deemed hygienic in the truest sense of the word.

Just because Richie’s sleeping doesn’t mean the rest of the group quietens. In fact, it seems the louder they get, the deeper Richie sleeps. As if their noise is the equivalent of a soothing lullaby. It’s why when he does wake up and speaks, it surprises _everyone_.

“Mikey?” His voice sounds rough and far off. It’s clear to everyone that Richie’s not truly awake. In all actuality, the teen had very briefly opened his eyes before stiffening and staying right where he is, head still nestled in Will’s lap. Everyone has stopped talking at the sound of his voice though and had seen as his eyes went to close tightly shut once more.

Collectively as a group they hold their breath, watching as Mike stills before slowly turning to face his brother. Suddenly, it seems cruel to have kept the two from sitting next to one another. They should have known, they should have moved, they should have anticipated _something_…

But the twins have been doing so well. Have been so happy (_Richie at least, Mike - known as Mikey to the Losers to help them keep him and _their_ own Mike straight in their heads – seems more reserved and broody_) and normal all things being considered.

“Yeah Richie?” Mike’s voice sounds soft in comparison, sad and expectant, as if he knows what is about to be asked next. The truth is he _does_ already know.

“Real or not real?” Richie asks, eyes still remaining closed. Mike swallows hard. He knows where the question is coming from. Knows that Richie’s imagined world in the lab has always mainly been about the Losers and the Party being altogether and shit…

They hadn’t even thought they’d live to see any of them again. To have both groups actually here, of course it’s disorienting. Like a dream. An imaginary world. To be honest, there are times since they’ve woken at the hospital, that Mike’s had to convince himself that this is all real too. It isn’t imagined. It isn’t a grainy television feed giving them the latest update on their friends. This is real.

“Real Richie.” Will’s eyes flick from the pained expression on Richie’s face to Mike’s closed off expression.

“Really fucking real…?” There’s a desperate tone in the whine that leaves Richie’s mouth just then and Mike takes in a breath before saying.

“Pinch him Will.”

The puppy eyes that greet him are a rebuke and a clear _no_ that Will is NOT going to pinch Richie. But Stanley has no such qualms and to be honest, the entire situation is making him feel slightly ill on his friend’s behalf. Richie may be a clown and an attention whore but not when he was feeling vulnerable. That had never been his kind of show. So he reaches over and grabs a meaty chunk of Richie’s upper arm so quickly that Will doesn’t have time to swat him away.

“FUCKING OW STANLEY!!!” Richie sits up and is rubbing that part of his arm rapidly. “Mother fucker! Cut your damned nails!!!”

“You’re welcome.” Stanley says quietly, sitting back with one arched eyebrow as he looks Richie over carefully. “You back with us again?”

“Yes, fucking yes!”

…

When Mike gets up with a feeble sounding excuse that he wants water, Will hesitates where he sits for maybe two or three thundering heart beats before he pushes himself up too. He feels Richie’s stare but the twin that’s still present is deep in playful banter with his older friends and so Will doesn’t really pause to answer the non-verbalized question. He simply lets the very tips of his fingers brush through Richie’s shorter hair, the muscle memory missing the way the longer curls used to feel, in what he hopes is a reassuring move before walking out of the room and where he thinks Mike has actually gone to.

He knows it’s not necessarily his place. Knows that El would be better at dealing with whatever is going on with Mike but Will is also achingly aware that El is recovering just as much as the twins are. And in any case, Will’s known Mike the longest. They’ve been friends since they were five for God’s sake. Will just can’t forget the expression that crossed Mike’s face when Richie had asked if it was real, just a handful of hours ago. He can’t just laugh it off and think to himself, it’s okay. It’ll just take time. Every wound just needs time to heal, right? To be forgotten?

It’s such bullshit.

And Will’s never been so aware of how much is being left unsaid, untouched than now. The twins are hiding in the joy of being free, of being found, of being home but Will knows it’s not that easy to brush the darker experiences aside. It’s not that easy transitioning back to a life and realizing that everything’s different yet the same. That everyone’s moved on and changed while you were fighting to come back home.

He’d been missing mere days and he still had nightmares of the Upside Down.

Mike and Richie had been missing for almost a year. And neither of them had shared even a word of what their experience was like beyond what they’d told the Party and Kali’s gang to give them enough information to understand that the Mind Flayer was out and the Gate was open and all shit was going to hit the fan if they didn’t do something to fight the Mind Flayer and close the Gate once again.

Another campaign, another battle…

Today is the first crack that had actually been visible in the twins’ armors since coming home from the hospital. Will just wants Mike to know it’s okay. That he’s not alone. That he doesn’t have to do it all himself. Doesn’t have to heal Richie by himself, doesn’t have to protect the Party and the Losers from whatever they’ve seen and experienced. Everyone wants to be there, helping them.

He knows his friend like the back of his hand and it’s a relief in a way, a reassurance, that despite all those days apart, with all the shit that everyone’s lived through, he still _knows _Mike. He finds him exactly where he thought he would, and Will just takes the sight of him like a sign. Despite the sign and the confirmation that he still knows his friend, there is a slight stutter, just the slightest of hesitation, in his footing because words have never been his forte.

Will expresses himself with drawings, not words. But…

He takes the steps that erases the distance between himself and Mike and sits next to him, bumping his friend’s shoulder along the way. He feels the way Mike shifts, his whole body tensing in a silent question. He’s not moving away or shutting down, just half turning to take Will in. In the past, Mike would have put the question into words. But here, he simply takes Will in with one look, slight frown pinching his features.

“I just wanted to check on you…” Will answers and the frown melts away.

“I’m fine.” Mike responds quietly. “Just…” The pause isn’t overly long. It’s just long enough for Will to search Mike’s expression and wonder what word his friend will use. Did Mike need space? Did he need air? Did he need quiet? Were they being too obnoxiously clingy and needy? After all, since the twins had been discharged from the hospital, there hadn’t been a single day that’s passed that the Losers and the Party hadn’t crashed at the Wheeler’s home to at least get a glimpse of them. It’s a desperate attempt at convincing themselves that the twins are all right. Truly all right. Back and safe and unchanged. But Will knows that they are changed. Had to be changed. Just like he’d been. He just doesn’t know yet the extent of the change. “…just needed some air, I guess. We’re getting to be too big for the basement.”

Will nods at that assessment. The Wheeler basement after all is a bit too small to house the twelve of them, especially with how much some of them have grown.

“… you don’t have to stay…” Mike speaks again after a bit.

“But I want to.” Will says. “Crazy together, right?” It’s half a whispered plea. Half a reminder to Mike that he hasn’t forgotten about that night and the promise they made to each other. Mike gives a little chuckle that doesn’t sound amused.

“Yeah, I guess so.” They both lapse in silence and Will hugs his legs to his chest. He forces himself to look at the Wheeler’s back yard, the way the grass has just recently been cut and how the flower beds remain untouched still. It’s a contrast. He knows that maybe in a weekend or two the yard will be properly manicured. Polished in the way that the Wheeler household has always been maintained. He wonders if the Wheelers are still high in the revelry of having the twins back or if their own armor has started showing the cracks. He wonders whether the twins are aware of how close to divorce the Wheelers came to be while they were gone and how close to putting up the house and moving to Florida they’d been. He doubts it. He has a feeling that Nancy wants to keep all of the bad from Mike and Richie. But these kinds of secrets always come out at some point and with Mike being what he is now…

Will swallows hard, thoughts bringing him right back to the core issue.

“Mike?” Will finds himself breaking the silence this time. Mike makes a little noise in the back of his throat that Will takes as confirmation that he’s with him. That he’s paying attention and listening. “What…” He starts and stops and has to try again. Words are slippery and elusive in nature. He scrambles to find the right ones but a part of him knows that there aren’t any. “Why did Richie ask you that? If we were real or not?”

“…” He feels as Mike moves to glance at him. “It doesn’t mean anything Will, he was just waking up. He was probably just disoriented.” Mike’s tone is flat but the message is clear. Don’t ask. Don’t prod. Don’t push. It’s a little like a door being closed in his face and Will shakes his head in protest.

“Don’t do that…Mike, please. Don’t shut us out.” He rushes to say, hand grabbing at the crook of Mike’s elbow to ensure that his friend can’t just get up and leave him. Blowing him off with more than just words. “We want to be here… _I_ want to be here for you both. You don’t have to keep whatever it is that you went through inside…”

“Just leave it alone Will.” Mike says, tone still quiet, and his body shudders as he says it. Will’s not entirely sure it’s because of the words that are being pushed out in the air or because of the way Will’s now got both his hands wrapped around his arm, anchoring him down.

“I want to know.” Because he can’t leave it alone. He just can’t. Not anymore. “It’s the only way that I can understand and help…” There’s more he says, because he can feel the way the words, heavy and useless, work his tongue into a knot inside his mouth. But they’re never heard because Mike erupts.

He’s seen Mike erupt a handful of times. He’s heard the stories of Mike erupting when he was gone in the Upside Down. But he’s never experienced Mike erupting towards him and him alone. It had always been towards someone else. Lucas, Dustin, Troy, El, the Party in general even… but never just him.

He’s never seen this close the way his friend goes all tense, muscles hard and jerking free. The way his pale face is both white and blotchy red and the way that Mike’s words are filled with so much anger and darkness and hurt and venom.

Like broken glass falling and shredding anything that is on their way down to the ground.

The voice is loud and bitter, violent in a way and it’s such a shift that Will knows he’s missed part of what’s being said in the sheer shock of the change.

“I DON’T WANT YOU TO UNDERSTAND! I DON’T WANT ANY OF YOU TO UNDERSTAND! DON’T YOU FUCKING GET THAT?! DON’T YOU GET THAT THAT’S WHY WE FOUGHT SO HARD? SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO GET IT?! JUST LEAVE IT ALONE WILL! FUCK!” 

Will’s fingers ache at the way they’ve been unceremoniously jerked off but his arms are still too surprised by the sudden change and so they hang there in the air. As if Mike’s still there but he’s not. Because Mike’s gone. Like a whirlwind. One minute there and yelling in his face and the next second, gone. Will thinks he can still feel the air moving against his face simply from the way Mike’s body displaced it.

His body is at a loss as he tries to stagger from his sitting position to one of standing. He can feel that horrible tightness in his throat, impeding his ability to swallow. Maybe even breathe. It’s definitely not going to let him cry out Mike’s name.

How could he have gotten this so wrong?

“S’okay cutie pie…” Richie’s voice is low and it startles Will into jumping fully upright, body turning towards the sound in one sharp move. This is anything but okay. He tries to make his stupid vocal chords work long enough to say it but they’re rebelling and so he simply shakes his head, fighting the way his eyes are prickling hotly. This is so very much _not_ okay. “It’s okay…” Richie repeats and moves closer until he’s close enough to grab Will by the shoulders and pull him into a hug. It’s a hard hug. The kind that sort of hurts as much as it comforts. “He’ll cool off. He always does.”

“…I just…” Will tries again, struggling. “…just wanted to help…”

He can’t see the grimace that pulls at Richie’s lips. Nor does he see the way that Richie’s eyes close briefly. But he does feel the way Richie nuzzles the top of his head slowly.

“I know. Hell, _he_ knows.” There’s a pause and Will feels as Richie’s warm breath slides over the top of his head and onto his neck. “It’s just… too soon. It was too close of a call. And you and Princess, you’re his Achilles’ heel… you know that? It was just too damned close…” And those wiry arms are holding on harder and Will closes his eyes, partly in a wince because the hug was already too tight and partly because he’s crying now. He doesn’t understand. Not really. But he wants to. It just hurts too much.

It hurts too damned much.

…

They return to the group and find El missing. It’s not surprising that the girl’s gone. Will has the earnest hope that she fares better than he did. He really, truly hopes so. Because Mike needs someone beyond Richie to help him get through this.

The rest look at them with questions in their gazes but none get verbalized and Will’s grateful. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with words anymore. He’s too tired. He doesn’t even care that Richie’s got him in a protective hold, one arm slung over his shoulders and guiding him right back to where they’d been sitting before. He simply follows, loose, ribs aching from the hug and the sobbing. And he’s tired.

He’s just really, really tired.

“Sorry gang! Hope you weren’t too bored without me,” He feels Richie’s words rumble out and hides his face in the other teen’s chest, taking comfort in the way his whole body vibrates and in the way the other’s breath matches the tempo of his beating heart.

When Mike and El do return, it’s hours later. He catches his friend’s gaze and he sees the apology in the warm brown gaze. It mimics his own and it causes his lips to twitch, just barely, into a small smile that Mike returns.

And in his mind, he hears a soft and contritely spoken; _I’m sorry._

Tbc...

A/N -Ahhhh sorry. I promised to get this posted over the weekend and the weekend went and gone and now chapter was posted!!! No excuses beyond I was having a tougher weekend mentally. O.o... Hope you all are hanging in there!!! <3


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Mikey don't agree but they've come to the conclusion that at least some of their friends need to know...

Chapter 30

It’s a fight that he and Mikey have been having back when they’d still been lab rats, locked away and ready to die. Not ready, planning for it. Planning it just so that they’d wipe the evidence clear and ensure that Ellie Belle, Doe Eyes, Stan the Man, Billiam, Home School, and Bevie would remain free and clear from Dr. Brenner and Phase II.

It’s not a fight he’d expected to continue having once they’d escaped and they were actually still, surprisingly alive.

Richie has always been on the side that the Party and the Losers should be in the know. He hasn’t quite worked out the how but still, he’s been adamant that they should know in order to protect themselves, somehow, someway. Especially if the plan all along was for him and Mikey to die with the Lab for once and for all.

He’d been more for Mikey reaching out to Ellie Belle and telling her the details of Phase II before Richie unleashed everything in a blaze of glory. He’d never wanted to open the Gate. It had seemed too risky. Better to just kill Dr. Brenner and the bit of the Mind Flayer trapped in the vulnerable flesh of a simple but mad human then to tempt the fates of more creatures from another world entering their own.

Mikey though…Mikey was a strategist. A tactician. He’d created a plan with another back up plan. Opening the Gate, involving Kali, all of those moves had been a means to an end, distracting the Mind Flayer so that they could reach Ellie Belle and provide the opportunity for contact. A chance to see everyone and say goodbye without actually saying it or anything at all really. The end goal had still been the same. A blaze of glory, the end of him and Mikey. But there had been a slight glimmer of hope in Mikey’s plan.

Maybe they wouldn’t need to die. Maybe the Party and Kali’s gang would come up with something better than their original plan. Maybe Doe Eyes and Ellie Belle and Kali would provide them with just enough strength that all the other evidence could be wiped clean but them.

It was that glimmer of hope that had sold Richie on the plan at the end. However, he still felt strongly that both the Party and the Losers should know. Mikey felt just as strongly opposed.

He still wanted to protect them from the horrors and the what could have been. Why tell them when it was no longer an option of it happening? He’d heard _that_ before and look at where it had gotten them.

The tattooed 13 gives a phantom twinge and Richie closes his fingers into a fist briefly. It makes the number dance across taught skin, flexing muscles and moving bones.

Dr. Brenner and his goons may all have been dead. The files may all have been burned. But he hadn’t forgotten his history lesson that had started the horrible ordeal. Dr. Brenner had not been the first scientist to attempt this science experiment. He also wouldn’t be the last. Their friends needed to know because Mikey couldn’t be everything and everywhere for every last one of them all the time to ensure that no one would find them, identify them for what they were, and kidnap them into being lab rats.

And even if that wasn’t a possibility that kept him up at strange hours of the night, didn’t they have a pact? Friends didn’t tell lies. They didn’t keep secrets. They didn’t break promises.

So, their fight continues.

It’s draining and it wears on both of them.

There are cracks showing. And both the Party and the Losers pick up on it with Doe Eyes and Ellie Belle the most impacted. Which makes sense, considering.

Richie knows that the two will be what lets him win this particular argument and he’s proven right when Mikey comes back following his shower after a long day, finally, and says, “Okay, fine. We tell them. But I think we should ask _them_ if they’re okay with everyone else knowing.”

Richie doesn’t need to ask who the _them_ entails. He’s been listing their names in his head over and over since Mikey had learned the full extent of Phase II.

He nods. He’s pretty sure he knows how the vote will go down knowing the Party members and the Losers like he does. And he has a feeling Mikey knows as well and already hates the outcome. Would explain why his bitch face is back at one 110%. Richie gives him a little smirk and a shake of his head before asking Mikey exactly how he plans on just telling _them_ anything without the rest of the gang getting suspicious.

As always, his twin doesn’t disappoint as he starts to outline a possible game plan.

…

Bill isn’t quite sure what he’s doing in an old rusty bus in what seems to be the middle of nowhere with only a handful of the Party and the Losers there with him. He’d been startled awake by a _voice_ calling him out of sleep and telling him to come but to let those who stayed asleep, sleep. To not wake them, to not leave them a note, just to let them be. The mental voice would guide him and those who woke up to where they needed to go.

He’d sat up thinking he was losing it. Or maybe he was still sleeping. A dream within a dream. It had given him the absolute creeps to see Mike and Stanley sit up as well, exchanging wide scared looks that merely confirmed that he wasn’t losing it. He was actually _hearing_ this. This was actually happening.

Will’s door opened then, and he’d motioned for them to follow, just like the voice in his head had said would happen. He hadn’t seemed as freaked, surprised and a little confused, yes, but not scared.

Bill hadn’t liked this. Hadn’t liked it one bit but he did trust Will. So, he’d gotten up and followed the slighter and shorter boy quietly, traipsing outside in the middle of the night until they’d arrived just outside of the bus.

The twins were already there standing next to the open bus door, same with the girl. El. She had looked concerned while Mikey simply looked tired and unhappy, the remnants of a bloody nose having been badly wiped clean with a back of a hand. Richie however had given them a smile, waving them inside and telling them to take a seat and get comfortable cause it was story time, fuckers.

And now they were here, entering the decrepit bus, and Bill is still lost as to what is happening exactly. He is, however, suddenly glad Eddie isn’t here with them. His short friend would have lost his cool at being told to enter this death trap. It was beyond dusty to the point where the spider webs seemed weighed down by dust particles. Bill yearns for the shower caps in their underground bunker back in Derry to cover his head. They’d definitely come in handy right about now.

“This better be good, Richie.” Stanley mutters, hitting Richie in the shoulder hard as he passes him.

“What, Mike…?” Bill hears Will start and Mikey sigh in response.

“It’s like Richie said. Story time. You said you wanted to know.” The voice isn’t comforting, tone mildly defeated but honestly more blank than anything else. Bill follows Stanley further into the bus and nudges his friend to pick a seat and take it damn it, sitting right next to him when he does. He also makes a show of completely ignoring Stanley’s muttered expletive under his breath for Bill being pushy. Mike, their Mike, sits in the opposite seat, long limbs stretching out in front of him while he crosses his hands loosely on his lap. He looks deceptively calm, but his large dark brown eyes are watching the twins carefully as the two wait for El and Will to take their own seats in the bus.

Mikey arches an eyebrow at Richie who hesitates for a bit, frowning as if he’s hearing something that he’s not agreeing with. But no one is actually talking right now.

“Fine, asshole.” Richie says, again, as if he’s responding to a conversation that no one else can hear. His friend sighs and just plops down on his knees so he can still face the rest of them. “So, I’ve been told to start with story time, since this is my idea and Mikey-baby has a headache. You all ready?”

Bill can feel Stanley ready himself to say something scathingly sarcastic and he places a hand on his friend’s forearm to quiet him. It works and he merely feels as Stanley turns to glare at him instead. Bill doesn’t return the look so he can continue watching the twins.

“…g-g-go on, R-richie. T-tell us.” He prompts when a stretch of silence continues despite all of them having made the appropriate gestures to show that they are ready. Confused but ready.

“...Ellie Belle says that you weren’t told everything when you came down to help with the search. Before I tell you everything, you need to promise, this won’t leave outside of here… not even to the other Losers, to Red, to Dusty, or Stalker unless we all agree to share it with them too.”

“What the hell is going on Richie?” Stanley hisses, “This is seriously not funny.”

“Not trying to be funny, Stanley, so shut up. We’re being serious, we need you to promise.” It’s something about Richie’s tone and the look on Mikey’s face that makes all of them quiet and nod, despite the growing frowns still on Stanley and Mike’s faces. “Well okay then…” Richie slaps his hands together before looking at Mikey and El. “How about we start at the beginning? The very, very beginning. See, there once was a place called Russia, where a teen who faced incredible adversity was discovered to have powers. She was studied as well as others were, and trends were discovered. Some children or teenagers when faced with trauma or impossible circumstances at just the right timing in their development would develop these incredible powers. Telepathy, Telekinesis, Pyrokinesis, Empathy… to name a few. And labs around the world took note of this. They thought, hey, what would it be like if we could create these? Make an army of them? And so, our story leads back to the US where some soon to be parents who didn’t know they were going to be parents decided to take part in an experiment to become super soldiers. They were given some drugs to activate parts of their brains that are supposedly dormant. Shit happened with them but the babies they had? Well one…” Richie jerks his head towards El who minutely shifts away from him at the move. “It was clear right away she was born _special_. She’s stolen away and kept in a lab for 12 years, letting her hone her telekinetic and telepathic skills. The other soon to be mother sees this goes down and runs from the science guys, these _bad men,_ and has twin boys that she separates. She keeps one, while giving the other one away to her sister. I’m sure she was terrified we’d be like the girl but well, besides one being annoying and one being gloomy,” Richie shrugs. “We turned out boringly normal. Or so we thought.” His grin is slightly manic and Bill frowns, glancing between the twins. “Empathy is a trait that’s quieter than telekinesis. It’s subtle. And usually written off as someone just being overly sensitive. Clearly not anything like me.” Richie tacks on but waves his hand towards his brother and then hesitates before pointing his finger at Will. The shorter boy blinks and frowns, opening his mouth to protest something. But Richie merely shakes his hand. “Our moms got us into this mess. But it’s not the case for everyone. Some are born with innate abilities or the … capacity to have the ability turned on. Will, you _are_ that someone. Your mom had _nothing_ to do with Hawkins Lab.”

“Richie,” Stanley mutters, breaking in while their friend pauses, staring intensely at Will. There’s more than confusion underlying Stanley’s words as they get pushed back. There’s some fear there too. “This is _insane_. What the hell are you talking about?” 

“I’m saying, Stan_ley_, that we’re not the only mutants who _shine_ in our groups, k? And that the lab that Ellie Belle lived for the majority of her life, that’s where we were, getting out abilities turned on. And those men who had us, they knew that you shined. I don’t know if our interactions with that fucking _clown_ is what did it or what… but so many of us Losers, shine. They had your names listed in order of who to take next. You too cutie pie. You were on that list too. And that’s why we fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be taken. It’s why Mikey’s so fucking prickly about you not knowing. He doesn’t want you to understand because you came so close to being us. To being numbers 14, 15, 16, and 17… well Bevie would have been 17, you would most likely have been 18. If they could have figured a way to take you and not get your mom up their ass.”

There’s the longest of pauses and Bill feels his thoughts swirling in his brain loudly. Shining what? Mutants? Powers? What the fuck…? And Hawkins Lab? Hadn’t they been a dead end?

“… So Mikey,” Mike starts slowly. “… is an empath while El is a telekinetic. What are you?”

Richie’s grin widens and he flicks his fingers. That weighed down dusty as fuck spiderweb that Bill had spotted as he’d gotten in the bus just goes up in flames. Bill jumps right along with Stanley, not truly feeling the pain as Stanley’s bony elbow hits him as they try and get away from the fire. Besides them on the other side of the aisle, Mike swears but remains statue still, pearls of sweat beading at his temples.

“Richie.” Mikey snaps. “Stop it now. It’s hurting him…”

Richie looks confused but the fire goes out as if it had never been there. Still, Bill can feel the remnants of the heat, pulling at his skin and that spiderweb? It’s gone. He’s still staring where it had been, barely hearing it as Richie gives a little curse before his long legs get him right to where Mike is, still frozen.

“Shit Mike, I’m sorry man. I’m sorry, I…I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

(_So much for story time being a fucking hit and getting to show off a bit. Sighs. Why did everything have to be such a fucking mind trip anyway? Oh right. Cause the world sucked and each and every one of them was fucking traumatized. Whoop dee fucking do…_) 

Tbc…

A/N - so.... I've been struggling with this chapter. Originally it wasn't meant to end where it did but I figured that I needed to stop poking at it and just upload it where it's at. The second part of this chapter will hopefully come soonish... but I apologize in advance if my posting becomes longer between chapters for a bit. I've hurt my hand which makes it hard to type for extended periods of time (I'm a grade A klutz!!!). Hope all of you are doing well and hanging in there. Much love to you all... 


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation in a dusty broken down bus (and just outside the bus) continues. Blood oaths are definitely stronger than spit swears, right? But either way... gross...

Chapter 31

El doesn’t quite know what she’s feeling let alone what she’s thinking. She can feel the frown on her face and it’s causing a tension headache to build at the back of her skull. The other group’s Mike, not her Mike, is the center of attention right now because it’s clear that Richie’s flames did _something_ to him that was bad.

But her attention isn’t on him. It’s on _her_ Mike and trying to decipher all that she’s feeling and thinking from the little that Richie’s shared. Because to be honest, she thinks he hasn’t shared a lot. It just feels like there’s more to the story that he and Mike are being very _very _careful about revealing. She just doesn’t get why…

(_Unbeckoned memories of visiting Mike in the Void since he’s been discharged float in, and she revisits them briefly. The way he would notice her, smiling despite being pale and tired and distant in a way he’d never been with her before. Distant in that he wasn’t sharing what was going through his head. He didn’t mindlessly talk or answer questions, instead his eyes remained sometimes seemingly far from the present and far from her. They never really talked in the Void, simply stayed side by side, hands as close to one another as they could while not being able to physically touch as they waited for another night to end and a new day to begin where they could then be physically together again. She can see in her mind’s eye the way they’d eventually fall asleep together there, entwined but refusing to part, only to wake up alone in their respective beds with their heads hurting and pounding and still… they hadn’t stopped. She was still too scared to be apart from him. Too scared that she’d wake up and all of the past handful of uncounted days would turn out to be a horribly vivid dream and he’d be gone again. Unfound and lost to her.)_

She’s… she’s unhappy. Angry even. Sad. Hurt. And confused. But also worried, she thinks, because Mike’s bleeding again and she has a feeling that he’s not even actively trying to _do_ anything with his empathy or telepathy. Whatever Papa did to him, it’s different from her. And it scares her.

He’s shaking his head, grimacing a bit as the back of his one hand goes to wipe the blood trickling down but it does little besides spreading it across pale skin. “I can’t…” He starts, voice thick, and leaves the bus. She follows him quickly but instinctively doesn’t go to touch him as much as she wants to do just that. El flings a hand to stop Will from getting too close as well not even needing to look at her friend to know that he had been right behind her. Mike walks just a bit further before sitting on an old egg crate, placing his head in his hands and cradling it for a bit.

It’s only when there’s a slight relaxation in the line of his shoulders a couple of heart beats later that El allows herself and Will to get closer. Mike’s eyes remain closed as they get to him, but he doesn’t tense back up and she finds herself releasing a breath as she falls to her knees in front of him. What had Kali said? That Mike had lost himself once in the noise of others around him. Her sister had taught him to build a wall around the core of who he is but… Kali had been spooked. She hadn’t been sure the wall would be enough.

“Mike…” El says softly, fingers touching the side of his face gently. She feels him take a breath in before opening his eyes, the color of dark melted chocolate with all of the emotions of love and fear and pain and sorrow looking back at her. “Mike…?” She says his name again as he leans into her touch quietly. She says it like a question because it _is_ a question. The question she wants to ask but doesn’t quite know how to word yet.

“He was having a flashback.” He says quietly. “I’m okay. I just needed… air…” (_What he means is physical space and distance, but air will have to do for now._) It’s partly what she was asking but partly not. Still she nods and releases a sigh, shifting up on her knees so that she’s high enough to rest her forehead to his, the very tips of their noses barely touching. One of his hands comes to tangle in her hair at the back of her neck, pressing there briefly before dropping and simply taking her hand in his, keeping them connected before he looks away and to the side, separating them. She misses the closeness of the touch acutely despite still holding his hand, but she knows why he’s putting the distance between them.

Will is standing there, looking worried and more than a little bewildered but also embarrassed, eyes looking anywhere but them. She can see as he glances between their feet and the bus, weight shifting in his stance as he clearly wonders whether he should have followed them in the first place.

“It’s okay Will.” Their friend gives them a furtive glance before hesitating and taking a step closer. He hesitates again before sitting next to them on the damp grass.

“Is it?” Will asks quietly. “Are you? Really?” Mike nods and there’s a pause before Will continues quickly. “Mike, what Richie said…” He trails off looking unsure and a bit sick. “He can’t… I’m not…”

Mike sighs and El squeezes his fingers gently.

“You are. It’s why the Demogorgon went after you that first night even when you weren’t injured. It’s why, I think, you were able to survive for as long as you did in the Upside Down and evade the Demogorgon for as long as you did. Because even though you shined… you could also sense it. It’s why El could find you so easily when you were there. And it’s why the Mind Flayer went after you following that…” (_And Mike shudders as he remembers Dr. Brenner’s words of how uncomfortable it had been for the monster to be in that body versus Will’s own. His skin erupts in goosebumps despite the warm air as he relives the revulsion he’d felt in that moment._) “Will…” Mike trails off, clearly struggling to share whatever else he clearly knows or thinks he knows. El doesn’t know what exactly he sees on Will’s face that makes him continue but Mike does eventually, despite the words being even softer than before. “…the files… they didn’t just think you were an empath or telepath… they thought maybe… just maybe that you had some form of telekinesis too. The way you spoke with your mom through the lights…”

“But… I can’t _do_ any of that anymore…” Will sounds a bit desperate and El feels as Mike shrugs.

“Maybe it’s because you haven’t needed to…” And then Will puts into words the crux of the problem that’s been hovering on the edge of El’s too full of emotions and thoughts that are both causing her chest to feel tight and her head to feel heavy.

“Why did you lie?” …to me. To us. It goes unspoken. El’s fingers tighten around Mike’s as if to keep him anchored, to keep him from getting up and leaving. “Why call me just a… sensitive before…? I don’t… I don’t understand…” There’s a tension that’s palpable between the three of them and Mike’s shoulders are tight and heavy from it.

Part of her wishes to protect him from it. Despite not knowing everything that Mike and Richie have been through, she knows from her own experience that it must have been cold and harsh and isolating and dehumanizing. That part of her, the young girl with the shaved head, stilted language, and little to no knowledge of the world outside the barren lab, wants to throw her arms around Mike and glare at Will for pushing him. For hurting him. For wanting to know more. For questioning.

The other part of her that Mike himself awakened and that the Party and Hopper had helped protect and blossom and grow into who she is now, wants answers. She’s sick of feeling like a pawn in a game she didn’t know she’s playing. She wants… she wants…

She so desperately wants to push a remote control on pause and then rewind her life like it’s a VHS tape. To go back to that summer before it all went to hell. She wants to be able to erase the darkness and distance that she reads all to well in Mike’s eyes. She wants to erase the unfathomable look that crosses his face now when he watches the group or his family and seems to know more than he should but feels helpless to fix or to join back in with them. She’s not quite sure which it is and more likely, it’s not one or the other but both.

But her life isn’t a movie. Neither is his. It’ll never be that simple and so she stays stuck where she is, hearing as Mike takes a little breath in.

“I just…I wanted to protect you.” The words seem feeble out in the open. Feeble and fragile and incomplete. El can almost imagine Dustin’s voice popping up from a dark corner to rip the logic to shreds. How would the lie have protected Will? How would it have protected any of them? Hadn’t ignorance and lies proven time and time again to be man’s greatest failure?

“… from what… and who…?” Will asks, voice barely over a whisper. “…from myself or them?”

“All of it.” Mike mutters. As if the not knowing would erase what Will actually is or had done or could do. “I don’t want this life for you…” And El tenses because _that_ that makes sense to her. Even if the words are still not full and detailed like Mike used to be. She gets it on a gut level. Regardless of the time playing a normal girl, she’ll never be one. Her powers will be with her, branding her and others connected to her a target. The past year has highlighted that like nothing could have. And Mike knows this now. Lives it too.

How often has she spent the days wondering what it would have been like for all of her friends if they’d never met? Weighing the pros and cons of leaving and rupturing their connections to her. It hits her suddenly that Mike’s faraway gaze may be him starting to weigh those options too.

Are they a protection for their loved ones? Or more of a risk?

And if they’re more of a risk, where do they go? What life do they lead? How do they disappear? Can they lead a life that’s normal anymore? And she can suddenly follow the tangled web of thoughts, but it makes her chest hurt more. There’s more than just shadows in those thoughts, there’s darkness and despair and it hurts to breathe.

She doesn’t realize that she’s squeezing his hand to the point that it’s painful until Mike hisses and looks at her with a tired but questioning and worried expression on his face. El shakes her head, drops his hand, and just loops her arms around Mike’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder.

El doesn’t see the boys exchanging a mystified look but she does feel when Mike wraps a solid arm around her and pulls her closer. She also hears as Will releases a little breath and says softly.

“You have got to stop trying to protect everyone, Mike. Or at least, if that’s just _impossible_ for you to do, at least let us protect you in return too. And I’m making you promise.”

“Spit swear sort of promise or…?” Mike’s voice is tired but less empty than before. 

“Hell, knowing you and how obstinate you can be, I don’t know if that’s strong enough. Blood oath?” Will offers and El has to blink and shift to take in her friend to see if this is the boys being boys with their D&D lingo or if he’s actually serious. And what is exactly a blood oath? She doesn’t like the sound of it.

“When did you become so pushy? I really don’t think we need to resort to that…” Mike retorts but Will is looking back at him with a knowing and stubborn expression despite still looking slightly shaken and upset.

“You forget, Michael Wheeler, I know you. Blood oath promise.” He says with a definite jerk of the head, tone sounding more final than before.

“Blood oath promise?” El asks finally and the two boys startle, glancing at her before glancing at each other with arched eyebrows.

“It’s stronger than a spit swear.” Mike starts answering after a long pause. “Supposedly anyway, because instead of exchanging spit, we’re exchanging blood. Usually by cutting yourself on the palm of the hand or wrist. It’s meant to be an unbreakable bond.”

“And you actually do this?” She sounds a bit shocked and Mike rubs at his face.

“Well no. We haven’t before…” 

“We haven’t needed to before.” Will cuts in, jabbing a finger in their direction. “But I think now we do,” He says, giving Mike a definite look that reads louder than _anything. _It’s clear that Will has reached a new level of understanding regarding Mike’s protective streak and whether it follows where El thoughts brought her to or not, he’s done being protected by being kept in the dark. No more. And he’s going to make sure Mike knows it. “And if Lucas were here, he’d back me up.” Mike sighs heavily, and it sounds a bit like defeat. Because clearly, he knows that Lucas would in fact agree wholeheartedly to this plan. Whether Dustin and Max would agree as readily isn’t really discussed but maybe it’s because this oath is between Mike and Will only.

She watches as the two try and find something not rusty but sharp and wrinkles her nose at them when it’s clear that the broken glass hurts as it cuts jagged lines on the palms of their hands.

Whatever would let Mike know Will was serious and keep Mike in check and here and with them, she’ll take right now. Because she’s too filled with her own questions and doubts to be that anchor for Mike.

Still, really, you’d think after so many years of being around that humans would evolve into doing things in a more civil way. But not her boys. She sighs and shakes her head, turning her attention to finding something semi clean to wrap their hands instead. 

…

It takes a moment to click in that they’re no longer all on the bus. It shouldn’t alarm him the way it does because his brain is quick to point out and argue with him that Mikey wouldn’t actually _leave_ him. But despite the fact that his own fucking brain is arguing with the fear suddenly coursing through him, it’s also his same brain triggering said fear response. The way his heart rate elevates, blood rushing through him and leaving him partially deaf while also so very conscious of everything around him. It’s also leaving his fingers and legs trembling in what can only be anticipation for a fight.

He twists around slowly and assesses his surroundings, ignoring Stan the Man and Billiam and Homeschool who are now all talking quietly amongst the three of them. Homeschool is fine. Not okay. Not good. But fine. He’s no longer frozen anyway, eyes wide and faraway, and it’s his unfrozen state that had led Richie to look for his brother to see what the hell to do now. Only to find the fucker gone. Same with Ellie Belle and Doe Eyes. And fuck. All his questions about what next are simply erased from his mind. Fear is there instead.

He shifts up and off his knees until he’s standing back in the small cramped aisle and heads for the bus door, ignoring the way his friends call his name in question.

There are other voices outside, muffled, and probably the three he’s looking for. But until he actually sees _them_…

“What the fucking…? Why are you two bleeding? Seriously!” Richie exclaims loudly as he jumps off the bus, screw the stairs. That would take too long and his legs are long enough anyway to take him the entire way down.

“It’s fine Richie.” Doe Eyes starts, wrapping his hand with his night shirt because really, after a quick look, it _is_ the most sanitary thing around. “Just a minor cut.”

“He made me do a blood oath…” Mikey gripes, lemon sucking bitch face loud and clear as he also uses his shirt to stop the bleeding.

“I’m sorry, wait a fucking two minutes! Cutie pie made you fucking what for what!? His hand was barely healed from…” It’s not cute to hyperventilate while raging. It’s definitely not cool. Or charming. But Richie swears he could fucking strangle them both as he continues to rant and rave at how FUCKING CRAZY the two of them are to do a blood oath right now, for no real good reason that he can see or understand. Granted, he’s not giving either of them a lot of space to explain. He’s just too damned mad and panicky and can the two of them just STOP getting hurt and bleeding on him? Fuck this shit. “… and you, you anemic great turd who’s nose is a fucking blood faucet…”

“You’re anemic?” Doe Eyes sounds surprised and sorry and worried at the same time while Ellie Belle simply goes to cover Richie’s mouth with her entire hand. She’s never touched him directly and it startles him into shutting up. Briefly.

“It’s fine.” Mikey starts but the response gets Doe Eyes waving his bandaged hand in his twin’s face with a look that nearly murderous. “Oh, come on…” Mikey sounds like he’s whining and Richie blinks and blinks again while he steps out and away from Ellie Belle’s touch. “That can’t count! It’s not… I’m not. God damn it Will!” Mikey hisses and glares but the bandaged hand is still squarely in his face. Blood and all. “I struggle with anemia. Happy? Me not sharing that had NO protective qualities whatsoever to it.” Grumpity grump grump.

“Well, I dunno about that. You hate worrying others…” Richie points out slowly. “Although how you thought you’d keep it a secret when you’re fucking pale as a vampire now and can’t even fucking blush…” He trails off, flicking his twin’s cheek with his fingers, while the shit eating smirk spreading on his lips only continues to grows when Doe Eyes looks at him with a clear _yes_, and _thank you_ expression for proving his point and his twin simply glares while looking frustrated and slightly betrayed. Take that for giving him a fucking heart attack. Fucker.

“Uhm…” Billiam clears his throat behind them.

“I’d ask if everything’s alright.” Stan the Man asks, tight quality to his voice, “But I think… I’m fucking hoping, that this is all a really insane bat shit crazy dream I’m having… so, what’s the point? Is story time over or was there more you needed to share?”

Mikey is the one that answers and what he says makes Richie swallow hard. “Yeah, actually. And also, I think it’s time some_one_ explains to me about the fucking clown. Cause I really don’t get that…” God, he’s screwed. And he really _really_ gets why Mikey felt so strongly about wanting to hold onto well… it’s done and over with, why bring up the past? Cause guess what? He really, fucking _really_ doesn’t want to talking about that mother fucking clown.

Tbc…

A/N - Have I said recently how AWESOME you all are? You truly warm my heart at how much support and love you send this story and for me that you send my way. <3 It's truly priceless. Despite some delays, please know that I am still chugging along with the story. I'm just very random in my writing and have been pulled to work on Part III scenes (sweatdrops) or In Between scenes. But no fear... I will not give this baby up. Hope you all enjoy this chappie and I send you all much love and hope you're all staying safe and healthy. 


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night time discussion on the old dusty and broken down bus comes to an end with a vote and then is shared to the rest in broad daylight. Other realizations are made...

Chapter 32

The rest of the night and early morning ends in a vote after more “story time”. Will feels it deep in the core of who he is that he will never be the same following this story time. It doesn’t matter that it’s warm and muggy outside. He feels that chill that he cannot shake off as he watches the Losers retell painfully about a nightmarish killer clown in a broken-down house, hiding in a well and the town’s underwater sewage system. He feels himself shiver and hug himself tightly when really, he wants to hug Richie because Richie’s eyes take a weird distant look to them, as if he’s reliving it all and it doesn’t go unnoticed as the taller boy keeps clenching and unclenching his one hand who’s wrist is burdened with several bracelets, hiding another scar and tattoo.

There’s faded jokes, broken, and ill placed that come from Richie’s mouth but even he doesn’t smirk at them. He knows they’re not funny. That they’re landing wrong or even on deaf ears. But it’s almost like Richie can’t help himself. Like he needs to play the role. And Will aches for him. Mike, his Mike, the Party’s Mike, sways closer to his twin, silently offering a hand that gets taken after a couple of thundering heart beats. And even though story time wraps up with Richie saying with forced cheer that the fucking clown is dead, Will still wants to carefully look around and inspect the shadows for eyes that may be watching them all. That would read through them and identify their deepest and darkest fears only to use it against them.

The Mind Flayer was violating. _It_ sounds violating too. In a more sophisticated nuanced way that makes Will want to take multiple showers and scrub at his skin. He wonders if the others feel similarly. His brown kind eyes don’t miss either how Stanley’s fingers gently play patterns against his scarred cheeks, eyes looking out and away from everyone else. There’s so much fear there.

It’s suffocating really. So much pain. So much trauma. Why was the world like this?

(_The Party’s Mike keeps his hand tight on Richie’s while his other hand goes to block his nose. He’s not quite sure he knows still who _he _is in this time and place. Simply holds on to the fact that he is _someone_ and that he’s needed here and now. He can’t leave despite the fact that his eroding self is yelling at him to do so for sheer self-preservation. There’s a toxicity in the fear and hate that is coming through in the story telling. Polluting the air. Making it heavy and burdensome. Mike’s head aches and his nose is full of blood. But it’s distant compared to how violent the emotions rage around him. Snippets of memories coming up bright and sometimes detailed, sometimes blurry and unclear. But still, present. A woman’s distorted face with a mouth full of teeth. Screams in a sewer. A boy’s face, bedraggled mullet, hate in his eyes running towards him then falling, falling, falling… A girl hanging in the sky, face devoid of expression, eyes blank, and so many other mutilated bodies simply floating, floating, floating… a bathroom coated with blood, as if someone had taken the time to paint every nook and cranny with it… He feels sick. He feels nauseous. And maybe, maybe once he’s away from all of them and can think and feel for himself, he’ll realize that some of Richie’s more horrible nightmares aren’t nightmares at all but flashbacks. There’s a rotting smell that he shouldn’t _be_ able to smell with how much blood is filling his nasal cavities but still, it’s there. Or his brain tells him it’s there and he swallows hard to keep himself from gagging and interrupting the stilted words being shared out loud. The stilted words don’t capture the entirety of all that the Losers have survived and later, much later, Mike will be glad of it. Glad that El and Will won’t truly ever know or understand the horror that was experience for almost an entire year. Won’t know about the many missing posters hidden under other missing posters, of so many lives lost and forgotten, and god of the ways their fears had been manipulated. Of a yellow raincoat. Of a little’s boy voice saying, “You’ll float too” on repeat before his face distorted and revealed who and what it actually was…)_

The vote though. Back to the vote. It seems strange and unreal to go back to that. But they have to. And it’s true. It seems like based on the research that the twins had been made aware of in terms of what can lead people to be Sensitive or develop psychic abilities, the Losers’ experience with _It_ definitely qualifies as a triggering event. Will shivers again as he watches Richie come back to the present and helps his twin mop his face dry. Or tries to. It’s hard to focus on the voting with Mike’s face dripping with blood, his wrapped t-shirt around his hand now soaking up the blood from his face. But they need to. What do they tell the others? Do they tell them who was on the list? Who’s Sensitive or Empathic or Telekinetic and so on? Who shines and why?

Stanley and Mike (the Party Mike) are the only ones who seem hesitant still to share everything with everyone. They’re outvoted however and once that last matter is settled, they all head to their respective homes. Tired, heads full, and feet damp from the morning dew. But they head home. Will and the Losers following one path while Richie, Mike and El go another. Will knows without having to question it that El isn’t going back home and that there will be some hell to pay by Hopper when he figures it out but… Will also guesses she’s beyond caring right now. Part of him wishes he could follow her and the twins. (_God, how he does NOT want to be separated from them right at this moment._) But he can’t…He can’t do _that_ to his mother.

The hard hug he’d given them both before having to go their separate ways would have to be enough.

It’s quiet in his house when he opens the door and tries to assess whether anyone is awake and has noticed their absence. He hopes no one (_mainly his mother and brother_) haven’t noticed. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to handle their questions or concern. His head’s too full and his heart still hurts in his chest.

The house remains quiet as they enter, and he shuts the door behind them. Apparently, they lucked out as everyone is still in deep sleep. Will scrunches his nose and facial muscles for a breath and then releases the muscle tension as he breathes out. He knows it won’t help the full feeling in his head from going away but it’s something. His chest remains feeling tight but still, he’s breathing. And the longer he stays near the closed door looking into the dark room, the more he realizes that the deep chill is slowly fading from his skin.

Will’s hand aches in that moment, forcing him back into the present once more and pulling him away from remembering the looks in everyone’s eyes as they’d been on the bus. He looks instead to his hand and slowly unwraps his t-shirt to inspect it. The area where the glass cut through skin and muscle feels overly warm and he thinks that an infection may settle in if he doesn’t disinfect it right away. He starts to head to the bathroom to take care of it, but Stanley stops him, saying that Eddie can and _should_ help him take care of it. He’s the Losers’ doctor after all. Will’s hissed protests go unheeded and Stanley shakes his friend awake quietly before sending them both to the bathroom with the first aid kit, ignoring half of Eddie’s sleepy and somewhat bitchy complaints.

Will doesn’t know Stanley very well, but he can tell that behind the grumpy yet parental stern look, there’s fear and worry there as well. And that in forcing this interaction, it’s helping him stay in the present and not go back to the past. Not go back to touching the scars on his cheeks. Not go back to thinking about how he supposedly _shines_.

Eddie stops protesting as he finally rubs the sleep from his eyes and squints at Stanley, probably reading his friend much better than Will can and ever will be able to. Eddie is quiet but frowning as he follows Will into the bathroom, hugging the first aid kit to his chest and motioning for Will to sit and hold out his hand.

“What the fuck…?” He asks as he inspects Will’s hand, large eyes glaring up at him briefly.

“It’s a long story.” The short boy from the Losers snorts huffily at Will’s shittily vague answer, looking disgusted by the injury. Will notices how careful Eddie is at minimizing any direct contact with areas of his hand that have dried blood. 

“Aren’t they always.” Eddie grumbles before carefully but efficiently disinfecting the wound and wrapping it back under gauze. “Does that mean I won’t ever hear it?” He snaps, maybe making the bandage a smidgeon tighter than it needs to be in his irate mood.

Will gets under his skin more than any of the other Party members do and he’s not quite sure why. Well, him and that _girl_. He wrinkles his nose and is glad at least that they haven’t had to return back to her dusty and gloomy home. He also is relieved that she looks healthier, less pale, and less distant than she had been before. She’d just turned into the fucking equivalent of a human leech on Richie’s… brother.

And that’s also weird and makes Eddie uncomfortable. Richie’s brother. He didn’t like how much they looked like each other. Didn’t like how close they were or how they were able to communicate without saying anything to each other at all. It makes some angry hot itchy and uncomfortable emotion erupt deep in his gut and for the first several days they’d been here, Eddie had been convinced that he was falling ill with something.

However, despite taking his temperature regularly and even getting Stanley to check it, his temperature remained the same. Perfectly healthy and normal. Same with his appetite and energy level. He had no other symptoms besides the angry unnameable emotion that boiled over whenever he sees Richie interact with his twin or with this boy. Or the redhead, but to a lesser extent. Maybe the other Party members too but…Hell, whatever this feeling is, it’s acidic. And it makes him uneasy and unhappy. Will’s voice snaps Eddie out of his thoughts.

“Oh, you’ll hear it…” He says softly, small crooked smile looking sad and not at all fucking reassuring. “I made him promise.” Eddie frowns, wondering who the “him” is and feels that acidic feeling start in the pit of his stomach and up to his throat. Maybe he has heartburn. Maybe that’s what it is. Eddie shakes his head and let’s go of Will’s hand; bandage complete.

Will thanks him, quietly looking over the bandage and maybe even saying something about how well it’s done and no wonder he’s their doctor, but Eddie barely hears it. His brain is still warring between who Will made promise to share this story and wondering whether it’ll make it better or worse if it is Richie’s twin or Richie himself.

“You’re fucking cryptic.” He says snappily, before leaving Will and going to hide in the little nest he’d made for himself between Bill and Stanley. He closes his eyes, grumbling an incoherent warning at Stanley that no, he doesn’t want to fucking talk. Not yet, not now. But that he will get answers as to why he was rudely awakened to deal with bloody wounds on palms that makes his own puckered scar suddenly ache.

Fuck them all.

He needs to sleep if he’s going to make it through whatever story time was coming next, regardless of the storyteller.

He could feel it.

…

The next morning (_at a more reasonable and decent hour), _they start by all meeting at the twin’s home but don’t stay there. They move almost like a herd down to the Quarry, splitting amongst them drinks and food to carry for a picnic later in the day.

It’s far less inviting than their Quarry back in Derry, the walls steep and dangerous looking around them but it’s outside and in the fresh air and for that Eddie is grateful. He’s also happy to be away from Mrs. Wheeler who’s overly helpful and constant presence makes it hard to forget that the twins have only recently been found or returned.

(_It’s clear that she’s less thrilled about her boys leaving the safety of their home but Nancy finally gets her to agree by promising that she’ll go with them, along with her boyfriend, Will’s big brother to act as fucking chaperones. As if they were preschoolers going on a school trip. Eddie catches Richie glance at his twin with a question in his eyes but the other merely looks on passively and says nothing to fight the new plan._)

He’s still unsure as to the details of how the twins were found to be honest. And initially, Eddie could have given two shits about the how as long as Richie was safe and back. It had been enough to be excited by the news Max had shared over the phone with Big Bill that he’d been found and to plan on getting to Hawkins. His one goal in mind was seeing his friend. Screw the rest.

Eddie had seen Richie, touched him and made sure that he was in fact _real_ and now…

Now his mind sometimes wanders into thinking about the why and how, but it also is happy not knowing. Because frankly, sometimes knowing what’s hiding in the dark was also dangerous.

Eddie sighs and looks around him, nudging a rock with his toe. He’s feeling edgy and anxious and it doesn’t help that Stanley looks unsure as well as tired. Like he’d been up all night. Which doesn’t quite make sense since he knows that they all went to bed together.

On his other side, Mike whistles as he takes the space in and Bill, besides him stretches out, hands going up above his head as if he’s reaching for the sky before they get dropped back to his side.

“I know, right?” Richie jumps in, talking a mile a minute. “It’s fucking crazy how high those walls up. We can’t play any of our games here…” (_And he goes on and on and on…_) Eddie tunes him out in favor to watch as the rest of the two groups plus their _chaperones_ start to settle in a loose like circle. 

“Richie,” It’s _not_ funny but the others laugh when both Richie’s twin and Bill say his name at the same time in a soft chiding tone clearly meant to reel him in, get him to settle and get on track. It’s _not_ funny because instead of what would have been a typical Richie move, he actually quiets, sitting in a way where he’s all limbs yet still manages to pull off a somewhat boneless look. He looks tired and serious and much too mature for him to still be _his _Richie.

Eddie’s eyes flick to take in how Richie’s twin and Bill glance at each other briefly, surprised by the overlap in their voices. They look a smidgeon uncomfortable as if this is a dance they’ve never had to dance before and don’t know the steps without tripping over their large adolescent feet. Eddie would snort at them, but he just finds himself irritated. All of this feels wrong and out of place.

There should only be one leader and that leader is Bill. There should only be one group, one quarry, and one town. And it hits him _finally_ why he’s upset and why he’s angry. Why his stomach coils and feels acidic the longer he’s here and the longer he watches how different, yet the same Richie has become. How comfortable he is with both groups.

Richie’s not coming home with him. He’s not coming home with the Losers. The Losers aren’t the only family that Richie has anymore. He has blood relatives who actually love him and want him, who actually take care of him, and friends who also care and watch over him. (_Not that they did a great job since he got kidnapped, the little voice chirps in snidely_) He has a home. He…

Eddie’s throat tightens, hard, and he looks down and away from all of them. In every hopeless helpless daydream he’d had of Richie being found, it had always ended the same way. Richie coming home to Derry. Richie being back with him. With them. Richie being able to climb up the side of his house and into his open window that he always kept unlocked for just those occasions (_despite his threats to lock it when Richie pissed him off, which was actually quite often_). Because Derry felt at once too big and too small without him there. Less colorful. Less fun. Less loud. Less full of sticky treats to share and dares that pushed him out of his safe and boring bubble of existence that his mother had created for him.

Maybe he’d always known that it was unrealistic of him to believe that Richie would come back, but he’d still believed it. And now… now…

Eddie misses the way that Richie’s twin and Bill silently go back and forth on who will start this meeting. He misses the way Bill gives a genuine crooked smile and shrug of the shoulders. The way his friend tilts his head towards the twin (_the one who stole Richie_) in a clear, go ahead, please run this show. The way there’s relief in Bill’s overly broad and always tight shoulders, at finally not having to always be the one in charge.

But Eddie does snap to attention at the way there’s a sigh and then words that he wishes he could unhear. Because his brain is already too overwhelmed with his own realization to process that some of his friends and some of Richie’s new family are now fucking mutants like from those cheesy ass X-men comics that he’d shared with Richie, refusing to fully share how much he actually enjoyed the graphic novels and the debates they’d had on what powers would be best, worst, or useless to have.

Fucking clown. Fucking lab. He’s so pissed and seeing red, and he’s having trouble breathing.

Hadn’t they been through enough?! Hadn’t they… Stanley grips him hard and keeps a hold of him, anchoring him there and forcing his inhaler past his lips. He bites on it hard, hurting his teeth in the process as he sucks in the puff of air.

Richie’s moved from his original place in the circle and is rubbing his back helpfully and Eddie glares at him, despite being glad, deep down, that Richie is actually physically present, helping him through the panic induced asthma attack.

…

Of course, the conversation doesn’t stop there. They stay in the Quarry for hours talking, questions being fired here and there, problems being tackled left and right. For Bill and Ben, the primary one on their minds is what to do about Bev. How to protect her when she doesn’t even remember who they are? And, Stanley reminds them dryly, being also fucking far away.

Mike and Eddie from the Losers are more stuck on the fact that some of them _shine_ and some don’t. And what the hell does that mean anyway? What should they be on the lookout for to keep the rest of their friends safe? Dustin, Lucas, and Red agree with all of these questions.

Nancy and Jonathan are deceptively quiet but do jump in here and there, whether it’s to help dismiss stupid plans or to soothe out tempers because, come on now, there’s a lot at stake here. When all of their stomachs start to rumble, they come to the conclusion that it’s definitely time for a lunch break.

Eddie finds himself walking and eating, needing the space to digest every_thing_. He flicks an invisible speck of something off the pb&j before biting into it, chewing 100x methodically despite the softness of the bread, just in case, like his momma told him to do. He watches where he places his foot, cause the last thing he wants is to slip and brain himself here.

He finds himself unsurprised (_well, no, mildly surprised_) when Richie catches up to him, a bit of jelly smeared at the corner of his lips. His smirk hides the concern that’s in his eyes, but Eddie knows him well enough (_he thinks, he hopes_) to know it’s there. Even if the words coming out of Richie’s mouth makes him want to smack the other boy. He tries to stuff down the irritation that he knows now is actually masking a deep grief around things that have caused a change in his life he hadn’t quite been ready to face. He’s not quite sure how long he lets Richie run his mouth without giving him much to work on before his friend grabs him by the elbow and halts him mid step.

“Okay, are you really _here_-here, Eds? Cause…”

“I’m just thinking.” Eddie answers, before quickly adding, almost instinctively, “…don’t call me Eds.”

“Yeah, I can tell. There’s smoke coming out of your ears, dude. May need to use a fucking fire extinguisher to put you out!” Eddie rolls his eyes. It’s not Richie’s best. It’s not his worst. He takes the last bite of his sandwich and then carefully pulls a wipe from his handy pack to clean his fingers free of the peanut butter, jelly, and breadcrumbs. The sandwich sits heavily in his stomach. Maybe he shouldn’t have eaten it all. “Eddie…” Yep. That’s the new Richie. The Richie Eddie doesn’t quite know or how to deal with.

“I’m fine…” He starts and then stops before taking a quick breath in. His eyes scan for Stanley. Because that’s who he now looks to for support when things get hard. When did that happen? When…? He knows he can look back, review his memories, and identify when Stanley took over Richie’s job of carrying his spare inhaler but… “… it’s just… you’re not coming home with us, are you?” It’s not a question. It’s not really. Even though he’s phrased it like one with the way his voice tilts up in tone. It’s more like he needs the confirmation. Or not even that. Like he needs to share what he’s realized out loud so that it can stop burning a hole inside of him.

Richie’s perplexed and shocked look hurts in a way that he wasn’t ready for. The expression makes it all too clear that Richie hadn’t even considered going home to Derry. It hadn’t even been on his radar. And that more than anything else, is like a direct punch to his gut.

“I…” Eddie smacks him hard on his arm because it’s what they do. Have always done. And he also doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to hear Richie’s stuttering explanation or confirmation or whatever the fuck Richie is going to say. The smack stops whatever Richie was about to say and he watches as his friend recoils and rubs instead at his arm. “What the fuck, noodle head?”

“Stupid…” Eddie whispers. Although whether he’s calling himself that or Richie isn’t clear even to him.

Tbc…

A/N - I really hope all of you out there are taking care of yourselves, however that may look like. Sending love and sending care and hopefully, a quiet break for whenever you need it. <3


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's grumpy because he's worried. Mikey's tired because he's anemic and there's way TOO many people who are around him and want something from him. They make contact with Bevie. And also, Stanley's not okay. He may Shine, and he may be the one staying calm for Eddie's sake (and for the other Losers, let's be honest), but he's not okay...

Chapter 33

They’re all gathered in Hopper’s cabin around the one small phone because it’s the only one, out of all their houses, that they’re sure that isn’t bugged. Not that they’re going to say anything incriminating but still, there’s a layer of paranoia that’s settled amongst the group that hasn’t lifted.

It’s healthy in some ways. But it’s heavy. It permeates and some of the earlier joy and relief from reconnecting has left with the reality of their situation.

There’d been a debate earlier as to who should call Bevie. Big Bill and Haystack are the first to volunteer which is no surprise to _anyone_. Richie’s half disgusted snort at how obvious those two are isn’t lost on anyone either. But whatever.

Richie can feel Mikey’s eyes on him; the question in them is why he himself hasn’t volunteered. Richie gives a minute shrug and shake of the head. He’s not sure that a) he wants the spotlight for this one, and b) he’s not sure he can handle if Bevie doesn’t remember him too, which brings him back to a) which is also his c) of he really fucking does NOT want to have a spotlight on his back when he will most likely break the fuck down like a little girl if his friend has blotted him out of her memory. He’s been through the wringer enough the past few days and he’s done, thanks.

He can let the sick love pups fight it between the two of them. His heart is already jack hammering in his chest in a way that aches for a myriad of reasons. No need to add another one right on top of it. He’s, afterall, _not _a masochist. 

Eds is looking down, standing stiffly in the corner and refusing to really be part of either groups, the Losers or the Party. He’s been like this since the Quarry and no attention that Richie gives him has filled the rapidly growing distance. Richie feels (_knows_) he’s fucked something up somehow, but he really doesn’t know what he possibly could have done (_Not entirely true. His gut and brain are yelling at him that it’s because he’s changed, and because he has a life outside of Derry. A family outside of Derry and the Losers and fuck. All of this is out of his control and part of him wants to tell Eds to grow the fuck up while another part of him just wants to curl up and not move for a very long while, because he’s already felt like a complete shit for this new life, this new family, these new friends and he doesn’t want to anymore. He doesn’t want to feel shitty and guilty about it all. It’s not _his_ fault, damn it!)_ and he’s… tired.

Stan the Man seems to waver between Eds and Richie, clearly torn as to who needs him more and also, more seriously, who will accept his comfort. Everyone in the Loser’s Club know that Ed’s a prickly little fucker when he wants to be, and his words can be laced with venom that makes you shrink and feel like an inch tall. If even that. And thank you very much Mrs. Kaspbrak. Bang up job you did with imparting that particular killer social skill.

Richie’s fingers are digging into the meaty part of the skin just above his elbows. He’s holding onto himself in a weak imitation of a hug, trying to emanate a chill, cool, relaxed vibe as he leans back into the wall of the living room when he’s anything but. Clearly, no one’s buying the act if Stan the Man’s still wavering between him and Eds and Mikey’s eyes are still lingering on him. But nobody’s outright calling him on his bullshit right now either.

And that’s probably because there’s a decision that’s still in need to be made about a certain phone call. Homeschool is trying to mediate between Big Bill and Haystack, not that it’s a fight or anything. But it has become a standstill of sorts. Something about maybe flipping a coin while the Party members try and give the Loser’s space to deal their own issues out. And Richie is rapidly losing his shit because it shouldn’t be _this_ hard.

He wants to go back. He wants to rewind or actually, fuck that shit, he wants to fast forward. He wants to fast forward to when he and Mikey and all his friends are closer to being okay. Less traumatized. Less testy with lack of sleep and fear of shadows and strange men from the government or weird ass shady labs coming out of the woodwork to nab them out of the blue.

He wants them to be able to play again. Or at least fucking relax.

He startles and lets go of his arms when Doe Eyes settles next to him, head leaning into his upper arm. He looks down and Doe Eyes gives him an apologetic and concerned expression for startling him. Before he can say the apology out loud though, Richie just shakes his head, forcing himself to relax so that Doe Eyes can be more comfortable leaning against him.

It seems that Stan the Man and Red see this move (_as small as it is_, _fuck this, he really was under a microscope. No FUCKING way was he going to be the one to call Bevie_) as permission somehow. Stan the Man to move closer to Eddie and Red to move away from Lucas and place herself on Richie’s other side. He’s suddenly very much being held up and grounded by the two of them and he feels Mikey’s mental sigh. The weight of his stare leaves him to go settle elsewhere.

Petulantly, Richie wants to scowl. He doesn’t. Because it does feel good. To be bolstered and cared for. He’s still a little shit though and after a moment of just enjoying the feeling of both Doe Eyes and Red on either side, he starts to sway. He tilts to one side until he fucking lets Red get all of his weight without warning, nearly toppling her over if it wasn’t for Doe Eyes scrabbling at him and pulling him back, taking on his weight instead. Red shoves him, playfully, muttering a curse under her breath as she does so.

Something about him being an ass and a clown. He retorts something about clown asses. Something gross and apparently way too sexual for his group of friends to handle in this particular moment.

He gets several beep beeps thrown his way that he shrugs off.

“If you want me to shut it, get a move on!” He snaps back a bit too viciously and that leads Mikey to step in.

“It’d honestly be easier for me if it was one of you,” He says tiredly, pointing to Big Bill, Homeschool, and Stan the Man. The truth is, it’d be easiest on Mikey if it was Richie. But Mikey doesn’t even point to him.

“Why is that?”

“Is it because they Shine?” Haystack and Dusty ask almost in the same breath and the tension in Haystack’s voice breaks a little as he gives Dusty a crooked grin. Richie will say it again and again. The two of them are nerds. Capital N.E.R.D.S. nerds. They’d be good for one another if they weren’t so straight. And Haystack so over the moon for the Loser’s very own redhead. The one with supposed amnesia.

“Yeah,” Mikey mutters, rubbing at his temple. “It’s because they shine…” He trails off, clearly hoping that he can stop his explanation there but one look at the two makes him lose that hope _real_ quick. “You seriously want a scientific explanation as to why? Right now?” He sounds a bit pissy. But Richie knows that Mikey’s barely holding it together these days. He’s more like one big walking and talking headache that bleeds from his nose more often than not. And Richie’s not quite sure how much sleep Mikey got last night on top of everything else.

To be honest, they’d barely gotten permission to leave the house this morning and Richie has a sinking suspicion that the only reason they had was because Mikey had “nudged” Aunt K mentally to give in to them. Thinking back to the morning makes the tension that had left his shoulders and neck area with Red and Doe Eye’s support come seizing his muscles back up with a vengeance.

They shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be doing this. And Mikey should be in his fucking bed sleeping. Resting. Recuperating.

But they had a plan in place.

A fucking plan. Whoop de fucking doo.

Haystack looks unsure as to whether to say, yes, he actually does want more of a scientific explanation but is too shy to actually put that desire into words. Already, his chubby cheeks take on a red hue.

Dusty however blinks and seems to really look at Mikey for the first time today. He doesn’t need Stalker to clear his throat in a… you better drop it, _now_. He simply drops it. Shaking his head.

“No, no. I’m good.” Pauses. “Are you okay enough to do this?”

Richie’s throat contracts with a barely swallowed down bitter laugh at Mikey’s answer.

“Fine. Let’s just get on with it.”

“Lie,” Doe Eyes counters quietly. He’s still holding the majority of Richie’s weight, which is no small feat considering how tall and lanky Richie is in comparison to the slighter boy. Although granted, Richie’s also still underweight. In any case, Doe Eye’s single word is slightly muffled as he works to get Richie to be even somewhat cooperative and lean more into him vs. draped over him like a bloody lazy and boneless cat.

“Not a lie.” Mikey gives Doe Eyes a look over his shoulder, his bandaged hand flexing briefly as if the blood oath is burning the cut skin there. “El’s gonna help me and then it’s off to bed for me for the rest of the day. Promise, mom. Okay?”

Richie knows from the tightness in Doe Eyes and Princess’ faces, that no, it’s not okay. But they’re working with it.

Dusty and Stalker exchange a look. Actually, it’s like the entire occupants’ of the room are exchanging looks that are communicating in wildly varied ways. Like maybe they’re getting their heads finally yanked out of their asses and seeing things more clearly. But maybe Richie’s reading too much into the looks. And he has to admit, that he’s more than a little cranky and high strung in this moment. Which could be totally coloring the way he’s translating the looks in his head.

Homeschool clears his throat.

“Can you see who shines the most?”

Interesting. Richie actually straightens up and lifts himself slightly off of Doe Eyes’ head and shoulders to peer at his brother. He’d never thought to ask. He knows Mikey hadn’t before he’d taken lessons from Dr. Brenner/Mind Flayer combo from hell. But after those lessons…

“You don’t have to say who or why…” Homeschool continues, voice calm and mature. He actually probably is the most mature of them. Well. Him and Stan the Man. (_It’s just that Stan the Man could be a bit _weirder_ than Homeschool and definitely prissy. How that equated to slightly less mature in Richie’s brain…he can’t even right now. There’s no way to explain the logic. It’s just true._) “Just… if you can see who it would be easiest to work with, pick. We’ll follow you on this one.”

There’s silence for maybe a second (_a second that’s long enough for Richie to wonder belatedly why, why, and fucking WHY Mikey hadn’t stepped up and shared this bit of information before and honestly, why he hadn’t bothered to just take over and tell everyone else to suck it up buttercup. They’d probably be back home or in the basement or just… somewhere where there’d be less tension and Aunt K would be less worried and… A niggling thought that maybe Mikey hadn’t wanted to step on Big Bill’s toes more than he’d already done passes through. It’s a thought that makes Richie want to grab it, shake it, and stuff it down a deep dark well. And then that leads to a grimace because what the fuck! No deep dark wells. Not in his mind. Nope, no, nada, non, niet! Not allowed.)_ before Mikey nods and then just gets up and asks Stan the Man to stay and everyone else but El to get the hell out. He doesn’t use the word hell. He’s actually quite polite about it all but… Richie hears it all the same.

The rest of the group make their way out of the house and sit on the steps, or on the patches of grass or even on the fallen logs around the front steps. They’re quiet as they wait. Because really? What else is there to fucking say?

And Richie’s too tired and mind too rapidly free firing in ALL sorts of directions to come up with good jokes anyway. He simply folds into himself for one second before saying fuck to that too and snagging Red’s lap for his pillow. A look from Ed is stopping him from snagging Doe Eye’s lap instead. He closes his eyes and then he can’t see anything at all. And that’s even better.

…

Mike offers Stanley what he hopes is a reassuring smile. He knows it’s a bit brittle but its softening now that there’s less people in the small dusty space.

“What do I have to do?” Stanley asks quietly, shoulders still tense and his face pale.

“Just call her… picture her in your mind as you talk to her… I’ll just be holding your hand as we do this, but you shouldn’t get pulled into the Void or anything like that.” He hopes that’s the case. He’s just not 100% sure. He glances at El who gives him back simply a worried expression.

He knows that she’s wishing they’d put this off. But honestly, the clock is ticking in terms of how much time the Losers have left before they’re heading home. Granted, Mike could simply do this with Richie alone. He’d prefer it too. But the Losers were worried about their friend and wanted to ensure her safety.

He understood that. He understood their desire to get this done pronto. And he can give them this much. (_He thinks. He hopes. He’s just so unbelievably tired and wishing for quiet and time and space…_) So why put it off?

Mike feels Stanley watching them and turns his attention back to Richie’s friend. He nods and Stanley takes this as confirmation that they can start. His long fingers are quick to dial the number that’s written in a torn off and crumpled notebook paper.

El squeezes Mike’s hand and closes her eyes. He does the same after a heartbeat or two, taking brick after imaginary brick loose around his core to open himself more to Stanley. His Empathy is drawn to Stanley immediately. Maybe because Stanley’s Empathic too. Beating in that brightness that the Mind Flayer called Shining.

Or maybe it’s because of all the sickly looking hurts that are around whatever makes up Stanley’s… being… soul. It pulsates. And there’s nothing that Mike wants to do more than go in there and heal it. Somehow, someway. But he has no idea how to heal and shoves the impulse down and away.

This isn’t the time. And he doesn’t have the mental and physical capacity anyway. His Empathy calls to his Telepathy and he hones in on and taps into the mental image of Bev through Stanley’s eyes.

His physical ears hear as Stanley talks to Bev’s aunt, asking to speak to Bev after briefly explaining who he is. But it’s distant and unimportant noise compared to the emotional and mental world that’s pulling at him.

Mike takes a breath in. Let’s it out. Hopes El will be enough to anchor him to his own being and let’s go.

Brick by fucking brick…

…

The Void is dark, the water rippling around El and Mike’s feet as they stay hand in hand. There’s a faded out silhouette of Stanley to their one side, continuing the conversation while slowly but surely on the other side of them, a girl starts coming into view.

She’s relatively tall and thin, skin pale and freckled from head to most likely her toes. Her hair is red but slightly more amber colored than Max’s, cut short, and curling around her ears and neck. She’s got a variety of necklaces hanging loose around her neck but there’s one in particular that she’s twirling around her finger as she presses the phone to her ear with her other hand. She’s wearing a short summer dress with laced up boots, shifting her weight from one to the other as she listens.

She feels perplexed. She feels confused. She feels nostalgic. Like she longs and maybe remembers somewhat. But there’s also a lot of fear too. She doesn’t want to remember.

There’s the sense of that same sickly looking hurt in her, just like there is in Stanley. And there’s the shining glow around her core that Mike blinks at before looking away briefly. He glances at El and squeezes her fingers.

She nods briefly before starting to call Kali to the Void.

Mike lets her go and steps towards Bev. Beverly Marsh. The closer he steps to her, the more she feels real in this space.

He can hear her now. The way she speaks. The tone of her voice as she words her questions. He can also feel the physical tension that runs through her and the way that she tightens her hold on both the phone and the key, because it is a key and not just some amulet, that’s dangling from the chord around her neck.

She’s hurting herself.

Mike reaches for her temple and though he’s not actually touching her, he makes a connection. He takes another breath and leaves her with information that she won’t know she has until she needs it. She’ll unconsciously use it to keep herself safe and to keep from others taking notice of her.

She’ll be more wary of adults, especially ones that suddenly want to “mentor” her or take care of her. She’ll never accept taking medications for any extended periods of time. Maybe antibiotics or painkillers if needed but nothing besides that. She’ll be on the lookout for recurring headaches and bloody noses. And if she has those… or many of those… she’ll suddenly feel the need to call this number. Hopper’s number. Not that she’ll know it as that. But she’ll have the memory of this phone number and knowledge of safety engrained deep inside of her connected to the number.

It’s the best he can do.

Mike withdraws and turns to face Kali. Her face is both dark and blank from barely contained anger. And is it maybe fear? She’s got too much of a wall up and the closer he steps towards her, the more her image fades out from him.

“Kali,” El whispers.

“No Jane.” Kali rebukes, shaking her head. Mike stops where he is and waits. “I do not like this.” She adds finally. “But I will agree to help keep an eye on this girl. In exchange…” She looks back at Mike, odd expression tugging at her brows and lips. “…find the other lost children.”

“Other lost children?” El asks because Mike already knows. Understands it deep inside him what Kali is asking for.

“Those that came before us.” Kali explains.

“What for?” Mike wants to know. He gets a sense but its’ not complete. Kali fades further from view.

“Just _find_ them.” And then she’s gone.

…

Stanley feels vaguely empty and vaguely like he’s failed as he sets the receiver down. It hurts, but maybe less than it would have hurt Bill or Ben, to hear Bev’s quiet wavering tone of confusion. She sounds healthy though. And maybe happy? Like an honest happy. Unlike the tough happiness that she’d exuded back in Derry that had seemed more meant to fool her bullies into thinking she didn’t care about the vicious rumors and slurs sent her way.

As Stanley reviews the brief and stilted conversation that had just taken place in his mind, the initial hurt is quickly replaced by jealousy and envy that she’s found a way to forget it all. He wonders what it would be like to be free of the fear and the nightmares.

Right after it had all happened, there’d been a moment of reprieve, of empowerment at having beaten _It_. There’d been a confidence (_not for or about himself, never himself_) in the Losers. In who they were when they were all together and all that they could accomplish. Had accomplished. Why hadn’t that stayed with them? Why had the darkness and the shadows become scary again? (_Maybe it had never truly stopped being scary for him. Maybe there was something just wrong with him. Weaker in him. But as long as the others were there, surrounding him, accepting him, then… it was okay. Bev forgetting him though…what if… if, if, if…) _

Stanley shakes his head trying to scatter the thoughts. ‘If’ thoughts are the worst. Clinging to him and making him feel unbearably small.

Despite having ended the phone call, he has yet to loosen his grip on the receiver fully. He knows he needs to let it go. He knows he needs to turn around and check in with Mikey and El.

But he’s scared to turn around and find out that he hadn’t been able to keep Bev on the phone long enough for Richie’s twin and his girlfriend to have done what needed to be done to keep her safe. He’s worried he’s failed them all.

And then what?

When he finally forces himself to turn around and look at the other two left in the cabin with him, he finds that they’re not focused on him at all. In fact, he’s pretty sure that lightning could strike him down in the very spot he’s standing in now and they wouldn’t notice it for all that they’re focused on one another.

He grimaces at the sight of them and starts a prayer. It’s become a habit now, the words that are supposed to provide protection from the darkness.

_In the name of Adonai…_

Mikey scares him. El scares him. Richie even… Their powers scare him. Stanley wants nothing to do with this and wishes he hadn’t been one of those who “shines”. Stanley says nothing to pull their attention on to him. He doesn’t want it. He takes a careful step away and then another and another before he’s finally able to be outside of that house and away from them. Away from the blood and the quiet whispers and the rustling of clothes being lifted to stop the blood from flowing so freely. (_A red room, covered in blood. Absolutely and utterly covered in it. The feel of cleaning it. Of imagining it getting through the thick yellow rubber gloves and embed itself in his pores. The nausea building. The feeling of never being clean again, ever, ever…)_

_…the God of Israel:_

The fresh air and light from outside along with the prayer helps a bit. Just a bit to push the red room out of his mind but other memories want to come out to play. He can feel it in the way his hands are trembling, and in the way that he feels cold despite sweating. He hears his name being called out, but he doesn’t stop walking. He also doesn’t stop praying. Sometimes, if he holds onto the prayer long and hard enough, the images begin to fade. Sometimes…

_May the angel of Michael be at my right…_

There’s a nagging thought that’s been buried among many others that’s wriggling itself free. Past the images of red blood walls and floors and Bev’s expression as she floated high up in the air…

_…and the angel Gabriel be at my left; _

What if it wasn’t _It_ that had caused him to Shine? What if _It_ had gone after him because he Shined in the first place? And what did that mean then, for any of those who Shined?

_And in the front of me the angel Uriel,_

Would there ever be safety?

_And behind me the angel Raphael…_

Would there ever be freedom from monsters in the darkness? From paintings whose eyes followed you from room to room? From a woman’s crooked smirk hiding a mouth full of broken shark looking teeth, just waiting to swallow him whole, to ingest him and break him piece by piece… (_the sharpness of pain, acidic, and biting through skin, him gasping the hot musk and gagging on the saliva and tongue as that thing, It, in the painting’s body holds on tightly to his face and sucks on him, blocking his nose and mouth and… how much blood had filled his mouth from the puncture holes from the outside skin to the inside of his mouth? And no sound, no sound could he make that could be heard. The yells entirely in his head. They’d left him, they’d left him… and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t fight…)_…

_And above my head, the presence of God_

Somehow, in that deep gut level feeling that’s made up of all blacks and bloody red colors, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be free. And that leads to yet another thought, one that he’s been viciously fighting whenever he’s left alone with only memories as companions.

_In the name of Adonai…_

What if he’s better off dead?

_…the God of Israel:_

Would they forgive him?

_May the angel of Michael be at my right,_

Would they ever forgive him?

_…and the angel Gabriel be at my left… _

…

Tbc.

A/N – The prayer at the end of the chapter that Stanley repeats to himself as a means to calm himself down is ‘A Prayer For Protection At Night’ from a 2013 edition of a Prayer Booklet titled: Jewish Prayers, Psalms, & Readings for Comfort, Hope, and Support by _Betty Ann Greenbaum Miller _Center for Jewish Healing. 

I’m sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. It’s been a ride. I think I’ve shared before that I’m a klutz, and well. The klutz thing happened again, and I hurt my dominant wrist and thumb making it incredibly painful to type. To be honest though, even without the injury, I think it would have been hard for me to sit and simply write like I typically do. A lot has been happening to the point where it’s been hard to slide into my internal dreamworld. And yet, I always know deep down, that when I allow myself to visit that world, I’m always much happier for it. In any case, I’ll stop my many ramblings but before I sign off for now, I do want to say thank you again. Thanks to all of you who continue to follow and support this story. Thanks to all who have accepted and even embraced this alternate universe and this version of the characters.

Every kudos, comment, sign of support is heartwarming and treasured. <3 I hope all of you are well, and that your loved ones and you remain safe and healthy and whole. Also, that you all feel valued. Because you are.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike goes after Stanley, wanting to ensure that his friend is okay and finds his way back to them... Richie takes care of Mikey.

Chapter 34

There are sticker bushes that pull at his clothes and his skin and he feels the pain as they rip the tender exposed flesh in places like the crook of his elbows and the underside of his wrists. There are leaves and branches that need to be pushed aside with his calloused hands and wooden debris on the forest floor that need to be hopped over and he lets his body just move, almost as if in a trance. He’s not actually in one. It’s just, when he’s pumped full of adrenaline, it’s like his thoughts finally quiet down and his body can take over. And he is much more confident in his movements when his brain isn’t “on” and overthinking every move. When his brain isn’t stuck on _alert_ and _suspicion_ mode, just scanning the surroundings for the next racist dick to give him a hard time for simply being who he is. (_Just because Henry Bowers was locked away now, didn’t mean others hadn’t come out of the woodworks spouting out hate and taking his place. Mike still had to watch his step. Every day._).

Mike hadn’t waited for their fearless leader to react when they’d all heard the door open and then seen Stanley half stumble, half high tail it right past them with no word of explanation. He’d reacted instead in that gut instinctive sort of way, no thought in mind beyond, _shit_ and _something’s gone wrong_ and _Stanley._ And then he’d started moving, following Stanley through the trees. He doesn’t try and form his friend’s name with his lips and say it out loud. He hears Bill’s voice and Eddie’s voice do exactly that and it does shit to stop their friend from continuing to move forward, pace speeding up with each try. He doesn’t try and reach out and touch him, grab at his shoulder or arm or hand to stop the progress or even pull him back into the group.

He simply follows, dark brown eyes staying peeled on the way Stanley’s movements are jerky, but fast. How his thin but sharp shoulders seem tight under the impossibly crisp button-down shirt and inching closer to his ears with every barely measured breath, his usual polished posture dropped instead for a defensive sort of tension that Mike knows all to well. It’s a tension that’s hard to release. Hard to control when it comes up and seizes the muscles there. It’s usually a slow build up but sometimes it can come on quick, like a vicious attack.

He follows because the very last thing he wants to do is have Stanley snap out from wherever he is mentally and find himself in the middle of a forest, far from home, and alone. Because as much as _It_ fucked with him and his friends, probably the worst memory from that entire ugly episode for him, was hearing Stanley’s shrill screams of distress that they’d forced him to come to Neibolt, against his will, and that they weren’t his friends. That they’d left him alone.

It had been true and not true. They had all pressured him to come with them, whether directly (_like Bill_) or indirectly in their silence as they stood next to Bill, half in the house. And when Mike had been held up fighting with Henry _fucking _Bowers, he’d caused the rest to lose their sights on Stanley and …

… and Mike blames himself for Stanley being alone in an underground well surrounded by gray water and hunted by _It_. If he’d been more on guard, if he’d been faster to react, been stronger, maybe then…

Just maybe, Stanley’s scars wouldn’t be both invisible and so very physically visible.

Mike just can’t, really can_not_ let his friend be alone ever again, so utterly convinced that his friends aren’t truly there by his side every step of the way. So, he follows. He follows as he tries to regulate his breath, sweating through his shirt because it is fucking hot as hell despite all the trees providing them shade and protection from the direct sunlight. He follows regardless of the scratches from the sticker bush prickles and the slaps in the face when a branch slips past his hands. He follows despite the doubts that start to combat that instinctive gut reaction and wonders if in all honesty, he’s the best man for the job.

Because what the hell is he going to do or say when Stanley finally stops walking?

Richie or Bill or Eddie are all better candidates for dealing with Stanley. They’ve known him the longest but…

…he still doesn’t stop following his friend. And he tries as best as he can to bring up his best Richie mental voice to tell his doubts that they best fuck the shut up. Cause it’s about to get real in here if they don’t.

…

Richie’s moving quickly from laying down with his eyes closed to standing, watching as Homeschool basically vaults over a downed tree and disappears into the foliage after Stanny.

What. The. Fuck?

His heart hammers through his chest and he leaves the rest of the group to deal with Stanny, instead running inside the house with only one thought in mind.

“Mikey?!”

“In here…” Comes the dry tone. It’s muffled though and Richie makes a face as he sees El pinching his brother’s nose, handkerchief already stained red. He’s pale, blue veins tracing his temple and cheeks in an alarming way.

“What…” He starts and then shakes his head. “We’re going home.” He says firmly. He can get the details later. They can deal with everything else _later_. He offers his brother a hand, pulling him to standing before turning his back towards him.

He hears Mikey hiss a little in defeat, Princess making a small noise as well but neither fight him. And he feels it when Mikey pulls himself onto his back (_And it’s got to be bad for Mikey to just give in so easily. Fucking, bloody, shitty…)_. He grunts a little, forced to take a step forward to brace himself for the additional weight. But then he shifts and Mikey’s secure on his back and that’s all that matters.

“It worked.” Princess says quietly, as she moves ahead of him, making sure nothing is going to impede his progress. “She’s safe now.”

“And Stanny…?” He asks, he can’t help it. Worry gnaws at his insides. Princess merely looks confused. He shakes his head and just continues moving forward.

Outside the Losers and the Party members (minus Homeschool and Stan the Man) look like a frozen painting. They’re all looking towards the forest with various expressions of shock on their faces.

“Maybe we should…” Eds starts, voice terse. “I mean… he doesn’t know this place. Neither does Mike… we should go after them.”

“I can go with you,” Red offers, pulling her red hair into a hasty ponytail.

“Same,” Dusty seconds, concentration still on where the other two had disappeared. Richie’s a bit irritably perplexed as to why they’re even all still doing _talking_ about it. Just go already!

The wood creaks under his foot and the groups swivel to see what the hell. Doe Eyes’ brown eyes widen while Stalker curses. They’re the first two that come to him and Richie shakes his head again.

“I’m fine. We’re just going home. It worked… now go find them instead of just… doing _nothing_.” He snaps and Big Bill jumps. Apparently the ‘it worked’ was what he’d been waiting for and he snaps into action.

“We’ll come check on you, later. Give you updates.” He mutters, the words thrown over his shoulder before he just takes off, barely giving Red, Dusty, Eds, or anyone really much of a chance to do anything but blink at his back before running after him.

“I’m staying with you.” Doe Eyes mutter. Stalker seems to be debating but nods at Doe Eyes’ words.

“I can carry him.” He even offers, hand going to rest on Richie’s shoulder briefly and Mikey makes a noise in the deep of his throat.

“I can walk…”

“Shut it, Mikey-baby.” Richie huffs, shifting his grip on Mikey briefly. “Let’s just go home guys…”

And they do…

…

Stan’s movements start to slow until his long gait becomes more of a shuffle and then he’s simply standing still. He looks winded but when Mike actually gets to his side, Stan’s face is devoid of expression. His eyes are closed despite his face being tilted up towards the sky. His breathing is calm and regulated even. There’s no frown upon his brow.

Mike stops, parallel to him, simply staring at his friend. He’s for sure breathing hard and his shirt in now more than just damp with sweat. It’s sticking to him like a second skin. A very disgusting second skin.

Slowly Stan’s eyes open, revealing the hazel honey like color. They’re still a bit blank before his blinks slowly, again and again and then it seems to hit him. Mike’s here. Mike’s here and watching him. There’s a flash of _something_ that crosses his face. Whether that emotion is shame or embarrassment, Mike can’t tell, because too quickly it disappears. It’s only lasting trace a slight flush hitting pale cheeks and a clenching of fists by Stanley’s side. Those eyes look away from him and instead look down and to the side.

“It’s okay…” He finds himself speaking, the words pulled from him. “Hey, it’s okay…” Even if he doesn’t know any such thing. Because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know what the hell had led Stanley to run in the first place. He doesn’t know what he’s seen, what he’s heard, what he’s felt or is still feeling. But…

They’re already close but he takes a step forward. There’s something about the way those shoulders, usually in that perfect posture, before tight with tension but now slumped forward in defeat that makes him reach out to Stanley in a way that he’s never done before. Except the once. Down in the darkness, foul energy wrapped around them along with the fear and the panic, desperate in trying to reach his friend and convince him, no, you’re not alone. We are your friends. I am your friend.

This is not the same and yet…

He reaches and takes a hold of Stanley, tugging him into his chest and into a hard hug.

“It’s okay…” He repeats. “It’s okay. I’ve got you…” He continues, still not really knowing why he’s saying any of this. “I’ve got you and you’re not alone…” He feels Stanley’s shock at having his personal space and boundaries violated. Yet his friend doesn’t fight the hold, doesn’t push back, simply lets himself get pulled in. None of his usual defenses are up, the ones usually placing a quiet but definite boundary between himself and the rest of the world. The only people who have ever deigned to get past the invisible wall are Richie and Eddie and yet, they’re not here. Mike is.

“…you’re not alone.”

The words continue. One per heartbeat. Like a litany, like a prayer, they repeat and rewind and play again and again until Stanley relaxes against him. There’s a choked up little noise that he ignores hearing. Because Stanley crying openly only makes his heart rate pick back up again and no. They need to calm down. They’re fine. They’re safe. They’re together.

They’re not alone.

Not anymore.

Not ever again.

…

Tbc

A/N - Just a heads up, it may be a bit before I can update again. My work is picking back up and its gonna get pretty hectic from here on out. Wish me luck!!! 


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie's determined to get Mikey home and into bed, Stanley and Mike are lost in the woods in Hawkins (and honestly, this may be more a chance to breathe and relax a bit than anything /bad/), while the rest of the gang are trying to find Stanley and Mike... All in all, tensions are high as different pieces are being digested by everyone.

Chapter 35

Richie had finally given in and let Lucas take over carrying Mikey about halfway to the house. He’d felt too out of breath and drained and the constant worried glances he’d gotten from Doe Eyes had finally broken through his sheer stubbornness. It hadn’t helped that his muscles had started to shake and he could feel his brother slowly sliding down, each time forcing him to heft him back up and causing Mikey to grunt out loud while needling him telepathically that he could in fact walk for himself.

He hadn’t wanted to give in. But in some ways, maybe symbolically, it was good that he had. Mikey’s pissy face at being transitioned from one back to another had been comical but not enough that Richie missed how Stalker seemed to straighten with an internal pride at being allowed in. At being allowed to help in _this_ way.

Ah. Shit. Richie shakes his head. He’s getting fucking weepy for no reason. He had to be overly tired and overly stretched. That’s all. He is not and would never be sentimental. God forbid.

It’s around the time that the Wheeler house comes into view that Richie feels like his muscles have stopped trembling and simply feel tight and sore. He’s walking straighter though, with each step his swinging hand brushing gently against Doe Eyes’ who keeps staring between him and his twin. The other boy doesn’t say anything, just gently checking in on everyone that’s with him.

Honestly, the only sounds that are coming from their entire little group is Stalker’s heavy breathing at this point. Princess is seemingly too concentrated on matching her gait with Stalker’s so that she can keep the loose hold that she has on Mikey’s ankle as they walk towards their destination. Stalker is also too concentrated on proving that he can carry Mikey’s weight the rest of the way there and well, Richie’s best guess is that Doe Eyes is too worried to say anything and have it backfire into Mikey hissing like an angry bitchy cat and walking the rest of the way home on his own strength.

Richie thinks it’s smart, to keep quiet that is. Afterall, he wouldn’t put it past his twin to do just that. Yet, at the same time, the fact that Mikey had accepted to be carried at all is a clear sign that Mikey knows he’s reached and possibly passed his limit.

And as for why Richie’s quiet? He’s not quite sure. He feels the itch to want… no _need_ to fill in the vacuum of space that the silence leaves between all of them. But his mind is strangely free of words. It’s not free of emotions. Nor is it free of thoughts taking shape in colors, flashes of memories and faces, but no words are there mixed with the rest. Nothing tangible to throw out there.

It’s disconcerting and he feels out of sorts. And again, he struggles with the wish to simply be alone with his twin. Just even for an hour or so to catch his breath. Emotional, mental, and physical breath.

Richie has always been _under_stimulated. He’s always had to do more in order to feel well…real. But ever since he’s been discharged from the hospital, he’s been too wired because of being _too_ stimulated. Being back home, surrounded by a caring and doting family. Being back and surrounded by both the Party and the Losers. It’s such a night and day in comparison to the drab and near empty labs and its structured schedule, with limited and really not that all engaging human contact…

It’s too much.

He hates that it’s too much. Hates that he can’t just bask in the dream quality of it all. That the reality isn’t as easy as his dream world, that it isn’t as free of drama and petty jealousies, and problems as his imagination made the colliding of his two worlds out to be.

Richie blinks as he gets to the front door but goes through the motions of opening it. It’s unlocked which makes sense because Aunt Karen is home, her car clearly parked in the driveway. He lets Stalker go first and sees as Mikey starts to squirm, wanting to get down before this can be seen. He sees as Stalker’s fingers uncurl and are working to let Mikey slide off of his back in a way that’s controlled and that would have been good if Aunt Karen hadn’t poked her head around the corner just then to greet them. Because the look that crosses her face when she does see them does NOT bode well.

“Michael…” She breathes out, her easy welcoming posture dropping like one drops a fucking hot potato. Her warm energy is just as quick to turn into a rushed anxious energy with a clear purpose and end point in mind. A little bit like a linebacker as she’s way too quickly at Stalker’s and Mikey’s side, making his twin wobble backwards, as she demands explanations.

If the moment had been a cartoon, then Richie could easily have imagined the scene – the cloud of dust where Aunt K had just been, still where her youngest is left behind, mouth and eyes wide open, and in silent distress. Maybe later, when the proverbial dust settles, Richie will feel for the kiddo. Right now though, he’s too in tune with the other players to mind her.

Richie finds himself talking at the same time as Mikey and Stalker even, trying to explain why Mikey looks like shit but that he’s actually okay and no, there’s really no need to freak out, like really, and the words are all a chaotic mess.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out today. I knew it.” Aunt Karen continues, one manicured hand coming to cup Mikey’s cheek while the other is feeling his twin’s forehead. Her voice is clipped, more worried than irate and Richie can see Mikey visibly wince at the contact.

“Aunt K…” He tries again, tone a whine.

“I’m taking you to the doctor,” She continues undeterred and its clear she’s not hearing them. Her eyes are too focused on taking in Mikey’s appearance and Richie wonders even if she realizes that she’s speaking out loud. “I should have taken you to the doctor’s this morning… yesterday even… I just knew…”

“I’m not going to the doctors.” Mikey says, voice quiet yet strong, cutting through the worried and guilt-ridden chatter.

“Michael, this isn’t up for debate.” It’s a weird, painful flashback for Richie. Hearing the words that is, because the emotions are different this time around. More tense, darker undertones, more anxious and upset, less innocent. But the conversation has happened before. Just back when it had first occurred, it had been about meeting psychologists. He feels the chill that the memory brings back to him. The man was dead, same with his children. Had he known all along what he’d been part of? Where he would lead Richie and Mikey to and what would become of them? Or had he been a simple pawn all along? “You’re clearly not well and…”

“No.” There’s no venom behind the word. But there is power. Richie feels it and his mouth snaps shut. Princess definitely feels it with the way she tenses and takes a step back and away from Mikey, instead her entire body coming to block Holly from seeing what’s about to play out. Aunt K, since it’s directed towards her, feels it and stills. Just for a moment, mouth parted open and worried frown lessening only to show the surprise that she experiences in that moment. The confusion. If Stalker or Doe Eyes feel it, it’s not a visible reaction.

And maybe this power play would have worked if Mikey hadn’t been so weak and if his nose hadn’t chosen that particular moment to bleed again. But it does and the stark contrast of that color against his twin’s pale skin re-ignites Aunt K’s fuel, casting the surprise and confusion right out the door.

“Yes, Michael. We’re going. End of discussion. Now… all of you, go home.” And her hands flutter from his face to his shoulder, fingers squeezing and pushing him to follow her.

What comes next happens both quickly and slowly at the same time for Richie. Slowly in that he can see it all coming to a head. Can see the decision his twin makes and his next move and the utter panic that drives it and knows in that moment, that it’s the wrong call. But it happens too quickly in that he doesn’t have time to say or do anything to stop it.

“NO!”

It’s a single word. It’s said aloud and in their minds; making all of them recoil with the exception of Aunt K and Mikey who both drop to the ground in a dead faint. Holly starts to cry, not the quiet tears she’d been crying behind Princess’s back, but that hysterical scared kind of cry that’s loud and ugly and lacking in breath. Richie sees as Princess turns to deal with his little cousin, face pale and clearly torn about making this particular decision. He’d bet anything that Princess wants nothing more than to jump to Mikey’s side and see if he’s okay but it’s not much of a bet to be honest. It just is…

Richie moves, it feels slow, but he goes to the two that are still on the ground like downed boxers and feels disconnected as he goes to feel for their pulse. There’s a buzzing that’s filling his ears, his mind aches, his heart hurts, but all of that feels so far away and so very not real.

Until…

Until his fingers brush against warm skin and he feels the slight little thud telling him everything that he needs to know. He moves from one wrist to the next, methodically.

The feeling of numbness and of disconnect leaves in one thundering heartbeat that fills him with relief.

They’re both breathing, they’re both… well… he hopes Aunt K’s gonna be okay. Because if she’s not. If she ends up like Android than Mikey’s never gonna forgive himself and it’ll all be a very short trip to hell.

Still, Stalker and Doe Eyes must see something of his relief shine through and none of his other doubts and questions because the next thing he hears is Stalker’s shaky question of, “… well what the fuck do we do now…?”

…

Deep in the forest, the two boys have fallen quiet.

There is no more need for prayer or a litany of reassurances.

“Sorry…” Stanley mutters, pushing himself finally up and out of Mike’s hold. He has to let go of his friend’s shirt to do it and there’s a brief unimportant moment of wondering when did he start holding on? “…I’m sorry, we should…” He trails off.

He doesn’t actually know what they should be doing and Mike’s shaking his head silently. Stanley wonders why the sting of embarrassment and shame isn’t back and choking him. It should be present. It has always been present for him.

But right now, he merely feels… a calm.

Mike doesn’t disrupt that state by saying even a word. It’s helpful and the calm deepens. Stanley starts to hear more than just his thoughts or the beating of his heart or Mike’s breathing patterns. He starts to hear the birds around him and the faint rustle as a weak summer breeze flows around them.

“Bev really is forgetting us.” He breaks the quiet with a whisper. “And I’m jealous.” He admits. Mike’s brown eyes don’t hold judgment at the admission. Nor do they hold pity. Stanley may be misreading the look, true, but there’s something inside him that tells him he’s not.

Mike simply takes another breath in and nods slowly before the other teen says, equally as quiet, “Sometimes I wish I could forget too…just not you all.” Stanley finds himself nodding at that and looks away from the dark eyes. Instead he looks around and realizes that the forest is too thick to actually allow him to find any of the birds that he’s hearing. That’s alright though.

He takes a couple steps until his feet bring him to a downed tree. It’s not downed so recently that it has leaves clothing any of its naked branches. But the way the bark is still firmly wrapped around the core of the tree makes Stanley think it must have fallen sometime during the winter. It’s not rotted out or pocketed with so much insect activity that would make him believe it’d toppled over during a storm earlier than that. He continues to inspect it before sighing and realizing its safe enough for him to sit on and damn it, he’s not _Eddie_. He can handle some bark dust and what not touching his ass.

Mike follows gamely, plopping down with an efficient move next to him. He’s not prodding Stanley to do anything or say anything. He’s not asking Stanley to fix anything or take care of anything. He’s also not trying to actively fix _him_. He’s just simply there. And for that Stanley starts to understand that part of the calm he feels is also infused with gratitude.

He lets himself further relax and get lost in hearing and sometimes identifying the bird (_and sometimes squirrel_) calls that are surrounding them. He’s not quite sure how long he allows himself to just be with Mike before finding himself breaking the silence once more.

“Are we lost?” He can’t help but join Mike in the chuckling and then outright laughter that follows his absurd question. They probably are but not in any way that’s scary. Afterall, they couldn’t be that far into the woods and away from the dusty cabin, could they? And Hawkins was pretty small with its latest monster burned to a crisp, at least according to Richie. Let them stay lost for a bit and revel in the quiet and the lack of demands on them. Stanley knows all too well, how quickly responsibility and the groups’ needs will weigh his shoulders down again once they’re found.

…

The problem is, Bill realizes, is that there’s too many cooks in the kitchen so to speak. Despite not being in a kitchen or attempting to cook anything at all. Still it’s the phrase he’s often heard his mother throw out there at times when his father had come home from work, irate from inefficiently run meetings and it feels weirdly apt in this situation.

They’re all paused from their short run, Eddie stuck sucking on his inhaler while Bill half listens as Dustin and Max bicker about what direction they should be heading for and why once they are ready to continue their search for Stan and Mike. There’s something about whether the trail they’d been following was one actually made by their two friends or the local deer population.

Bill has his own opinion and his own gut feeling as to where they should go and yet he finds himself hesitating to share it. Not because he doesn’t think the other two would discount his opinion but more because he’s simply doubting himself and doubting where this gut feeling is even coming from (_Stanley’s not the only one who feels unsure about Shining_). After all, he is not a Hawkins native and he just… he isn’t on top of his game here. He should have noticed that Stanley had been off since the night trip to the bus and story time (_had noticed, just hadn’t known himself how to reach out and what to say or do to help his friend digest the impossible and farfetched news that was in fact their new reality. It had been much easier to focus on next steps. And Bev. And keeping her safe then in accepting that they were different and would always be different from here on out)_. He should have pushed to be the one to make the call. Or anyone else really. Or maybe not make the call at all. Or at least not today. Or…

It’s like his thoughts themselves are stuttering and it makes him feel tired and drained. Just like the look of anger and concern he’d seen flash across Richie’s face before his friend had snapped out, _now go find them instead of just… doing_ _nothing_. Richie has changed. Less the clown and more a leader? Angrier? More serious? He’s not sure yet because Richie sometimes feels and acts exactly the same before very quickly becoming someone that Bill isn’t sure he knows at all.

Bill shakes his head and returns his focus on Eddie. The shorter boy is flushed but his breathing seems to be coming back under control and Bill’s just grateful he’d kept his inhaler on him versus letting Stanley or Richie hang on to it. He finds himself squeezing Eddie’s shoulder in what he hopes is reassuring. As he does so, Eddie slowly straightens up and glances at him, his question clear on his face. Where do we go? Do we listen to them?

He looks back to the bickering friends.

Too many cooks in the kitchen.

He sighs and tries to get his throat to relax as he finds words to explain why he wants to go an entirely different direction.

And he’s just one fucking more cook...

Tbc

A/N - I know it's been awhile and I'm very sorry about that. Fear not though, I have not dropped this story in the slightest. I've just been working out future scenes instead of staying focused in the here and now. O.o' I'll try and do better. I hope you all are staying safe, sound and healthy. Much love to all of you. 


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued aftermath of Mike losing his temper as El, Will, and Lucas try and figure out what to do...

Chapter 36

Will cradles Holly in his arms as best as he can. She’s bigger now and weighs more and honestly, she’s not _happy_ with any of them. She’s no longer having an outright temper tantrum and has at least quieted down but she’s still whining and sniffling, small body wriggling within his hold in a clear way that states that if he were to let her go, she’d make a run for it. He knows _exactly_ where she wants to go too, and he doesn’t blame her. He knows that she wants nothing more than to sneak into Mike and Richie’s room and go settle in their beds next to her big two ‘brothers’. Will sighs, trying to emanate calm versus the frayed sort of anxious irritation he actually is feeling.

His arms hurt and it’s a strain to continue holding onto her. But he doesn’t quite want her to run up and potentially wake Mike. Or force Richie to watch over her and entertain her when he’s also not at his best. (_Richie’s more like worried out of his mind for his twin and Mrs. Wheeler and the decision of calling for reinforcements… adult reinforcements. Instead of his manic amped up energy that he so often exudes, he’d given off a dangerous sort of coiled energy that had Will more worried about him than Mike even)._ So, Will holds on, whispering offers to read to the little girl or make bracelets or draw or…

With each offer the little girl shakes her head, her little nails biting into meaty parts of his arm where they hold onto him with a death grip. One that is entirely uncomfortable and painful. Will closes his eyes and tries to think back to what Jonathan had done whenever he’d get to be in such a state. His brother is a natural with kids though and he’s not. Jonathan wouldn’t need to _think_ about what to do. He’d just do it. He’d say the right things and he’d turn Will’s cranky, temper tantrumy ass mood right around.

Will glances to where El is still cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder. Her face is screwed up in a frown but she’s nodding, and he hopes that means that Chief Hopper is in agreement to their plan of him being their adult reinforcement. And that he can make his way to them stat because if Mrs. Wheeler wakes up before he gets here? They’re screwed.

Will spins away from El and her phone call and moves into another room entirely. If he was in his own home, Will would play music and try and lose himself in the beat and try and get Holly to join him in the musical journey. No… that’s what Jonathan would do. The truth is, if he was home, he’d leave the house and make a beeline straight for Castle Byers.

But he’s not home.

Will finds himself in the living room facing the Lazy Boy and the turned off television. He hesitates for a heartbeat or two and feels the little girl shudder a full body sigh. It makes up his mind. He goes and finds a way to shuffle her weight on one arm only so that he can fiddle with the television remote control with his other. Holly make a little noise at being handled in such a way but ends up resting her head on his shoulder as if giving up, already distracted by the noises and the flickering images on the screen as he surfs the channels, desperate to find something that’s going to catch her attention. Once he finds something, Will navigates carefully his way down to sit while still holding onto her.

He’s not really absorbing what he’s watching. He just feels the relief at feeling her finally sag into him and the way she starts to suck on her thumb.

Finally.

He’s done something right. He loosens his hold and finds his hurt hand throbbing painfully as the tension leaves his own body.

…

Lucas leaves Richie alone with Mike and closes the door behind himself. He hesitates there though. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. His role is complete. He helped Richie move Mrs. Wheeler upstairs and into her bedroom. He helped Richie than move Mike to his bed.

Now?

Now, he doesn’t know what to do. He knows El is calling Hopper. He knows Will is distracting Holly. He knows Max, Dustin, and the rest of the Losers are searching (_or have found?_) Stanley and the Loser’s Mike. He knows Richie is going to watch over their own Mike until Hopper comes and provides other options. And he also knows that Richie doesn’t want company this very moment.

He guesses he could go down the stairs and help Will with Holly. Or he could just go downstairs to wait and be ready to greet the others and tell them everything that’s happened while they were in the woods.

He could…

Lucas curls his fingers until his hands are closed into fists. His head feels heavy and lowers slightly in front of him until all he sees is the carpeted floor. Freshly vacuumed. He can still see the areas that were weighed down by the vacuum cleaner wheels.

Lucas had known that things wouldn’t go back to normal once the twins would be returned to them. He’d known, just as surely as he’d experienced the lack of normality once Will had been returned to them (_hey, he knew he put on a good act, but never once had he actually believed things were okay with Will or Hawkins after Will’s first disappearance. He wasn’t _stupid. _He just… he’d needed normal. He’d needed carefree. He’d needed Dustin’s curiosity voyages. He’d needed Max’s newness and innocence and zooming personality. He’d needed _anything_ but the reminders of the demodog and El’s disappearance and Will’s fake body being pulled from the water that night. He’d needed _anything_ at all but the burning and heavy sensation of pure and unadulterated despair and hopelessness that he’d felt at learning that they weren’t invincible and that they could very well die at any point. Even after what had been a brilliant and fun but mundane sort of day_). But he’d still hoped. And once the twins had been returned and normality didn’t resume, his hope had turned to hoping that normality would come back once they woke up from their coma. And then to hoping that the normality would happen once they were discharged from the hospital. And then to hoping that it’d be better once the Losers left Hawkins and it was just the Party together.

That Mike would lose the dark tension, that Richie would lose the fake cheer. That they both would put on weight, that their pallor would turn back to their normal freckled sunburn prone pale skin, and that they’d return to their regular roles within the Party. That they’d lose their stepping on eggshells way of being, jumping at different noises seemingly _too_ present in the here and now while also at times looking entirely _too_ far away from any and all of them. That Mike would stop randomly getting nose bleeds and that each time he bled, Lucas didn’t automatically start wondering, what the hell are you picking up on, man? What are you hearing? What are you feeling? Should I be afraid? And worst of all, the tight heavy pit in his stomach asking, should I be afraid of you, Mike?

He hates it.

He hates the fear. He hates the doubt. He hates the mistrust. He hates the helplessness. He hates the anger. He hates the way the nightmares have twisted. Because his nightmares have never left him. They’ve just changed.

God, he hates it.

He wishes he could be more like Dustin. He wishes he could tap into the curiosity and the want to know more and the excitement of being handed a new intellectual puzzle. (_Dustin and Ben had already made copies of so many pages of random books on ESP, chattering in the background about this theory and that hypothesis and when they had the time to do this, Lucas had no clue.)_

More than that, he wants to go back to when he believed that his parents could protect him. He wants to go back to believing that he could protect his friends. That a wrist rocket could defeat the monsters in the shadows. That a roll of the dice was the most important thing in the world and that Troy and James were the biggest dangers in his world.

But he can’t and he can’t even protect Mike from himself.

He’s fucking terrified that they’re going to lose him again in a totally different way and he’s not sure the Party can survive that. Fuck. He’s not sure any of them can survive that.

…

Hopper arrives at the same time as Nancy and he sees the girl (_he knows that Joyce would berate him at thinking of her as a girl because yes, technically, legally, she is a woman now, but the oldest of the Wheelers is still a kid to him and probably will always remain a kid to him_) do a double take at seeing him park his vehicle at the bottom of their driveway. She pauses, eyes wide and full of question.

“Hi,” She starts politely but clearly unsure. “Is everything okay?”

“Too soon to tell.” He answers gruffly. “Care to let us in?” Her eyebrows rise higher in her forehead and she looks a smidgeon more worried yet also highly unimpressed at the same time. He releases the sigh that’s been building in his chest. “I got a call. Your kid brother got upset when your mother decided that he needed to go back to the doctor’s. It apparently didn’t go down very well.”

“What?! What do you mean? Is everyone okay?” Nancy asks while quickly going to open the door and rushing forward, not waiting for an answer. “Mike? Richie? Mom?” Her voice rings out in the front entrance and Hopper is left to follow her in. He can feel a tension headache building. He knows that this gonna be one hell of a night.

Tbc... 


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's hard to tell what's a dream from what's reality. Or in Karen's case, what's a nightmare from the reality but she is about to learn the truth...

Chapter 37

Karen hears the sniffling and the sound of sobs being stifled before she sees him. She’s in the kitchen and Michael had been playing happily by himself in the living room. She hadn’t heard /anything/ that could have made him this upset. No sound of anything breaking or ripping or Nancy teasing her little brother as she was wont to do.

Yet it doesn’t change that there’s now the distinct noise of emotional distress coming from the other room. The sound alone breaks her heart just as it sets it beating at a higher speed and she rounds the corner without real thought beyond the need to get to her son. She needs to see him. She needs to know what happened. She needs to make it right again. Whether it’s through kissing the boo-boos away or simply holding him and tickling the sadness away.

The five-year-old is curled up on himself, his combed hair a tousled mess that she takes in with a passing glance as it hides his expression from her (_a clear reminder that it’s time to get it cut again_). Still there’s nothing to hide the shaking of his shoulders as each sob shudders through his frail frame.

“Michael…” She’s on her knees in front of him, pulling him into her so that she can cradle him to her chest. “Michael, baby, what’s wrong?” She looks for cuts or other signs of injury on his small body while still keeping him close, absorbing each of his sobs and feeling the bruising effect it has on her heart to see him this upset.

He’s unable to form the words but he’s pliant in her hold and he buries his face into her, as if trying to hide from the world.

(_When did this happen…? When…?)_ It’s a little intruding thought. And there’s a shift in the scene. A shift in Michael. She feels as the frail yet toddler chubby body starts to grow and elongate, baby fat quickly disappearing until it’s a quietly sobbing preteen holding onto her desperately. He’s still trying to stifle the noise. He’s still desperately trying to stop the tears that continue to be absorbed by her shoulder know instead of her stomach because he’s so tall. He’s getting so tall and she knows it’s only a matter of months, maybe a year, before he’s taller than her.

He’s moving too quickly into adulthood and she’s not ready. She’s not ready to lose her baby. She’s not ready for the distance she knows will build between her and him as adolescence kicks in. It’s already been hard to manage the hurt at seeing Nancy change and rebel against her. She’s just not ready to have the two of them rail against her. So, she tightens her hold on those shaking shoulders. (_When….? When is this taking place?)_

Her little boy had always been so sensitive. Too sensitive according to Ted. Too prone to hide behind her legs unless he bumped into someone (_Will_) who clearly was more scared or alone or in need. Too prone to almost mercurial like moods. One second happily playing alone in his imaginary world to suddenly glancing at her, tears welling in his eyes. Or irritable and without words to explain why the sudden shift. But regardless, she’d always been able to scoop him up, using her body as a physical shield against the rest of the world.

She’s scared. She knows her ability to do that is fleeting. And that his sensitivity is going to be broken and trodden upon by others. She hates it. Hates the helplessness and the inability to protect him. (_Them. Because there’s two of them. She hadn’t always had both. But now she does. And she sees, she knows, that Richie is just as sensitive_).

Her preteen son in her arms shifts again and there are no more tears. There’s a stillness there and the arms that had been holding on to her with a death grip are less holding on and more holding her. As if to comfort _her_. Karen blinks and realizes that Michael’s dark and wide brown eyes are dry as they stare back at her.

He looks tired and pale and way too old for his age.

He looks too knowing as if he can see right through her and see every thought, emotion and insecurity that beats through her every moment of every single day.

His mouth is moving but she can’t hear him. And then she can’t see his face as he pulls her into that protective comforting touch. She can only hear the thundering of his heartbeat beating back against her ear.

…

_I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry._

…

Karen opens her eyes. Her face is wet from tears and she feels distinctly disoriented and out of sorts. There’s a slight headache too. Like a tension behind her eyes and her body feels sore and bruised. She’s in her room but the lighting from the outside makes it clear that it’s too late to be early morning. It’s also too early for it to be nighttime. So why…Why is she here? Why is she in her bed, fully clothed? And why does she feel so sad?

A trembling hand rubs at her cheeks and then at her eyes, no thought about the way she’ll ruin her carefully applied makeup with this type of touch. There’s too much else on her mind.

For a breath stopping moment, she has the frightening thought that the past handful of days with both her boys being back and safe with her (_not sound or well because clearly there was so much that they’d seen and experienced and she had _no _idea how to help them heal or who to turn to that would help them but at least they were home. They were home and she could mother them to the best of her ability_) had been a mere dream. That the reality was that they were still missing. And that this was just one of those bad days where she had only been able to get up and make sure Nancy and Holly were taken care of and once both were out of the house, she’d climbed back up in bed and laid there, phone cradled against her, waiting and losing hope that it would ring and bring her news. She’d stayed there until she knew she had to get up, pick up Holly, start dinner, and act as if her world hadn’t utterly been devastated. Please… don’t let it be one of these days. Don’t let her boys still be missing.

She finds herself stumbling up, blanket impeding the movement as she crashes up to her feet and out of the door. She needs to see proof that this isn’t the case. That the reality is that her boys _are_ back with her. That the vague but confusing memory of Michael being angry with her and yelling at her is what is _true _even if it makes no sense to her.

Her moves are still uncoordinated as she makes her way down the hall from her bedroom to the boys’ shared bedroom only stuttering into a slight pause as she finds Lucas guarding their door. The teen is sitting on the floor, head slightly bent down, but he glances up when he hears her coming, eyes widening. He’s all coiled tension as he jumps up, hands motioning for her to slow down or maybe to stop.

“Mrs. Wheeler,” He starts. But she’s shaking her head at him, her own hand motioning at him to get out of her way.

“I need to check on them.” She manages and is both surprised yet not when Lucas shakes his head, no. His body purposefully shifts so that he’s blocking her access to the door.

“I don’t think,” He tries, and she cuts him off.

“Lucas, I _have_ to check on them. Get out of the way.”

“Mom.” Nancy’s voice cuts in from the stairs, but her daughter is moving fast. “Mom, stop.” And her daughter is pulling her away from Lucas and the closed door. “Mike and Richie are _fine_. But they’re sleeping and they need their sleep. Okay?”

“I’m not going to wake them up, Nancy. But it’s my house and my boys and I have the right to check in on them.” She snaps, _very _aware of how desperate she sounds (_the sound and the feel of Michael’s young crying body still feels so real, leaving areas of her tingling, as if the weight that had been pressing against her so tightly had just recently let her go, releasing the blood to go back to traveling freely. And it’s not just that. The real fear that them being back was the dream is still so very present and it’s choking her_), trying to twist away from the hold. “Honestly, what is wrong with everyone today?” And then there’s more to that memory that comes back to her, clearer in _why _Michael had been angry at her and her urgency increases. Michael’s pale face. The blood, both dry and dripping, his dark eyes flashing both angrily and desperately. _I’m not going. _And _No._ “I need to take him to the doctor, he’s not well, Nancy.” 

“Mom, please.” Nancy whispers; hold not loosening. “Hopper’s here and he’s called a doctor he knows who’ll come to us. So please, just please…please trust me.”

“Hopper?” She feels the tension in her muscles loosen. “What…?” Karen looks at her daughter directly then. It’s like the fog is finally lifting and she sees what she’s missed in the near long year of having been stuck in her own panic, grief and despair while desperately trying to hold onto hope that the boys were alive _somewhere_ and that they would indeed find them. She sees it all reflected in Nancy’s expression and in the weight loss that frankly, Nancy hadn’t needed. She’d already been way too skinny before…

“Mom,” Nancy starts, looking like she’s about to cry. “We have to tell you something.”

Karen nods slowly, licking at her lips. If the fog has lifted, the sense of certainty that she’s finally being let in, that she’s going to be handed the missing pieces to a puzzle that has surrounded her children since Will’s disappearance, crashes down on her with almost violently. She feels herself focusing yet feeling a bit like she’s out of breath.

“I know,” She hears herself speaking from very far away. “I’m ready to hear it.” She hopes that’s true.

…

Hopper is in the kitchen, El standing by his side and they’re finishing unscrewing and examining the last of the lightbulbs in the room. The table is frankly littered, and Hopper hates that there’s still so many of these fucking devices in the Wheeler household. (_Guess Ted’s declaration of being a proud American citizen along with Mike’s adamant and sometimes rude hissings that he didn’t know where El had disappeared to had done shit in convincing the government goonies that they’d all been telling the truth. Although Hopper seriously doesn’t think the government’s and Brenner’s lackeys had any interest in the most dull man ever to exist. Now the rest of the Wheeler brood… that was an entirely different story. However, why these were still here long after the lab had been shut down was not a reassuring development._) That’s definitely something that he’s going to have to address with Owens when the man finally arrives. He has some _very_ pointed and colorful words that are already dancing on the tip of his tongue that will make it _clear_ that this is unacceptable and needs to be cleared out. But that’s neither here nor there since the doctor isn’t present at the moment. He’d merely be wasting his breath and him venting his anger uselessly would just stress those that are already there and deep in it right alongside him.

He glances at El, his frown deepening at how her expression reflects sadness and tiredness all at once. And maybe, maybe if he were better with emotions, Hopper would read the bitterness there too. But he’s a simple man and what he already sees is enough to tug at his heart.

Hopper stops his task briefly, letting go of what he’s holding in order to reach out and gently nudge the back of her head. It brings the girl back to the here and now and looking at him, those wide brown eyes blinking at him curiously. He gives her a crooked smile before motioning to her to follow him with all of the listening devices and they carefully move them to another room. It’ll have to do for now.

It’s as they’re doing this that Karen, led by Nancy, arrive and Karen’s expression looks a mix of confused and scared and then horrified as her own mind answers her unasked questions.

Hopper has known Karen as long as he’s known Joyce. They had just never really run in the same circles in school and well, even after school and returning to Hawkins to be honest.

She had always come across to him as someone who’d used her good looks and charms to get what she wanted. Smart, but also way too worried about the superficial. Too concerned about being seen in a certain light, about doing things by the book as if life had a certain map that everyone needed to follow from point A to point Z with no pit stops or off-road trails you could take along the way. And from the outside, it had always looked to him that she was doing well, with that perfect looking family and never a hair out of place.

Yet… he’d known that her children had taken a wild turn off the life map she most likely had mentally planned out for them and Hopper hadn’t quite known how to bring her in, nor had he really wanted to. He didn’t deal well with hysterics and he really didn’t want or need to add a pampered housewife to the growing list of headaches he already was juggling. And to be honest, she’d seemed happy in her denial. She had seemed happy to bury her head in the sand once Will had returned and Mike’s “Russian girl” problem had been conveniently explained away by so many uniformed men.

Her attitude had both irked him, confirmed his preconceived bias against her, and relieved him of any duty he’d originally felt in _maybe_ having to clue her in that more had happened than she’d been told. After all, if she’d bought into the lies, not his issue.

But then Richie had been added to the mix and then the boys had been taken and… and… well, maybe he should have told her then. Maybe. But he’d held back. And had continued to hold back once the boys were returned.

He just didn’t trust her to take the news, accept it, and deal with it in a way that would be helpful and not harmful. He’d made a choice in that snowy forest years ago that he’d put El’s well-being over everyone else’s to make up for having chosen Will’s safety over her’s. He isn’t going to let one Karen Wheeler fuck up his promise.

And so, he’s not quite sure how to deal with this moment now that it’s here. He’d never expected El and Will and Nancy to be the ones to ask him to tell Karen _everything_. Hadn’t expected El to say please, and promise and… _damn it_, he was just getting too old for this shit. He wishes Joyce wasn’t working a shift right now. He could use her more delicate and more diplomatic ways of saying things. (_She isn’t always diplomatic, could swear with the best of sailors and could be pushy and obnoxious but… she’s still better at it than he is and at least, she’s somewhat friendly with Karen. If only because Mike and Will are friends and they’d had to deal with one another to schedule play dates and such.)_

He feels more than sees as El looks to him for guidance. She’s expecting him to handle this. She’s expecting him to know what’s best. She’s expecting him to fix the situation and make it right again. Hopper takes a deep breath and lets it loose as a sigh.

“You might want to sit down for this,” He mutters gruffly. “And hold the questions till the end. It’s gonna be a long one.” He wants to ask for a fucking beer to help him get through this, but he doubts there’s beer in this house and he’s never enjoyed the taste of wine.

Oh well, here goes nothing.

…

Karen continues to sit even as Hopper gets up and lets his friend, a doctor Owen, in. She… her mind is reeling with all of the information she’s just been provided, and she feels disconnected from her physical body. She can feel her heart hammering in her chest, she can feel her body continuing to breathe, but its’ from far away.

The girl, Elle, stays at the table, exchanging wide worried eyes with Nancy. She can see it now. Can see the resemblance to that picture she’d been shown one very _strange_ day. It’s all in the eyes. What Karen can’t make sense of is _why_ it’s only clear now. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t she made the connection? Why? Just why? Why had she let Ted talk her out of worrying more about that strange day and strange night and that strange man that had been both comforting and scary? Why had she stopped asking questions? Why? Why? Why?

The guilt and shame are heavy in her stomach. Acidic really. It’s very similar in a way to the way she’d felt at hearing about Michael and Richie’s diagnoses. Because the reality is, she knows the why.

It had been safer to not ask. It had been safer to not look for answers. It had been so much easier to focus on the fact that Michael had been safe, Will was back, and well, the dangerous girl had not been her problem or responsibility and there were day to day hardships and distractions and annoyances to keep her from looking back on that one day and night and dissect it further. She’d instead counted her blessings and moved right along.

Until Richie…

She feels her eyes prickle and closes them. God, if only she’d known. If only she’d actually _heard_ her sister out and _believed_ her. Could any of all of this have been prevented? Could she have protected the boys better? Could she have saved her sister?

Another part of her wants to yell and scream and break _something_. _Anything_. It would be better than to just sit here, drowning silently under this unbearable weight of why’s and what if’s that are just _torturous_.

She wants to yell at her sister. Wants to curse her out for being so utterly _stupid_ and _foolish_. Because, let’s be real, if her sister hadn’t been so brainless and reckless to sign up for this nightmare then, then… at least the boys would have been safe. Maybe Karen would have drowned and lost her way earlier due to her sister not needing her that night. But the boys would have been left alone and stayed whole. They wouldn’t have been kidnapped and experimented on.

Despite her eyes remaining closed, Karen feels a hot trickle run down her cheek anyway and she swallows hard, bile burning her throat as it stays lodged there. The memory of the hotel room comes back. The way small fingers wrap around her own. The way it felt to be needed and brought back to life.

The memory of her dream comes back. The small stifled cries of a sobbing toddler. The shudders of her grieving teenage son. She can only imagine a young Richie alone and crying silently and she shakes her head violently, hands coming to press at her eyes and cheeks.

The memory of the dark numbers tattooed on their wrists. Twelve and Thirteen. And her utter willingness to buy into the lies that her boys simply didn’t remember all of the months when they’d been gone. Because believing that had been easier and she’d wanted them to have no memories of whatever they’d been through.

But part of her had known that it was all lies. The nightmares, the haunted looks, their startle reflexes, and the tug of war between them wanting to be touched and left alone to their own devices at the same time.

She wants to get up, pack her family up and run very far away. Away from Hawkins, away from the memories, away from the fear and the anger and the guilt and the shame. She wants to run and hide and ensure that no one can hurt her boys again.

She can’t fix the past. She can’t go back and correct all the mistakes that her sister has made, that she’s made, but she can do better. Right? She can still protect them, right? She can still be their mother, right? Their aunt? Their family? She can still be that, right?

Or had she lost that right? Had she failed them so utterly that she could not make up for those past failings?

Karen hears the door shut and footsteps come closer and then pass the kitchen. She lets her hands fall from her face. She opens her eyes. And then she slowly pushes herself up to standing. She makes a decision.

“Mom?” Nancy asks softly.

“It’ll be okay,” She responds just as softly before she walks out the kitchen and follows Dr. Owens and Hopper up the stairs. No one’s going to do _anything_ to those boys without her being a part of it. And she’s done trusting blindly and going along without asking the necessary questions.

Tbc…

A/N - I hope all of you are doing well. Sending you all good thoughts and wishes of healthy and safety. Also, much thanks for continuing to follow and support this story. It means the world to me and I am working hard to wrap up Part II shortly. 


End file.
